X Wing: Rise of a Rogue
by LaneWinree51
Summary: The Imperial Remnant has revived a frightening link to the past: Thrawn's cloaking device. Rogue Squadron is tasked with putting an end to the crisis. Among their recruits is a young rookie named Darvix Zorvan. Set two years after Starfighters of Adumar.
1. Introduction and Dramatis Personae

**X-Wing: Rise of a Rogue**

_Part One of the Darvix Zorvan trilogy_

(Two years after the Adumar Situation)

_Disclaimer:_ The characters of this tale belong to the greats, George Lucas, Michael Stackpole, Aaron Allston, and so forth. Darvix Zorvan was created by myself, so let me know if you want to use him.

_Acknowledgments:_

First and foremost, thank you to George Lucas, for creating a phenomenon that has captured the imagination of generations. Michael A. Stackpole, for giving life to the Rogues and proving that 'We don't need no stinkin' Jedi!' Aaron Allston for proving Star Wars could be just like an episode of M*A*S*H. Also to former Lucasarts great Lawrence Holland and his team for creating the X-Wing, TIE Fighter, and X-Wing Alliance PC games.

I would also like to thank four good friends of mine. Without the help of Astronut, Carr, Myra, and Inyri I could never have finished this story.

**_A Note from the Author:_**

Rise of a Rogue is the first part of a trilogy that follows the adventures of Darvix Zorvan. The tale spans over a decade of his life, detailing his many adventures, triumphs, and tragedies. Unfortunately for you, the reader, I must be upfront and say that the first part of this trilogy was written while I was a sophomore in high school. To put that into perspective, I'm a junior in college now. The writing in Rise of a Rogue is largely untouched from where it was back in 2004/2005. Quite simply, the quality of this fic pales in comparison to my more recent work. This trilogy is approximately 670 pages in total, with Rise of a Rogue comprising the first 190 or so pages. I can promise you that the overall quality of this story improves dramatically in the sequel fics.

I can also assure you that the entire fic is completed. Several weeks ago I placed the final touches on the third and final novella. Because of that, I will be able to update on a regular Monday through Friday schedule.

Again, I apologize for how rough the first portion of this trilogy is. When time permits, I will revisit portions of Rise of a Rogue to add and revise.

Thank you for taking the time to read this story!

**Dramatis Personae**

The Rogues

General Wedge Antilles (Human Male from Corellia)(Rogue Leader)  
Colonel Tycho Celchu (Human Male from Alderaan)(Rogue One)  
Major Wes Janson (Human Male from Tanaab)(Rogue Two)  
Major Derek 'Hobbie' Klivian (Human Male from Ralltiir)(Rogue Three)  
Major Lane 'Ace' Azzameen (Human Male from Azzameen Station)(Rogue Five)  
Captain Corran Horn (Human Male from Corellia)(Rogue Nine)  
Captain Gavin Darklighter (Human Male from Tatooine)(Rogue Six)  
Lieutenant Ooryl Qyrgg (Gand male from Gand)(Rogue Ten)  
Lieutenant Myn Donos (Human Male from Corellia)(Rogue Seven)  
Lieutenant Inyri Forge (Human Female from Kessel)(Rogue Eight)  
Flight Officer Cheriss ke Hanadi (Human Female from Adumar)(Rogue Four)  
Flight Officer Darvix 'Dap' Zorvan (Human Male from Nar Shadaa)(Rogue Eleven)

Rogue Squadron Support Personnel

Major Nawara Ven (Twi'lek Male from Ryloth)(Rogue Squadron XO)  
Gate (Wedge's R5 unit)  
Whistler (Corran's R2 unit)  
Zone (Darvix's R2 unit)

New Republic Military and Intelligence

Admiral Ackbar (Mon Calamari male from Mon Calamari)  
Iella Wessiri (Human Female from Corellia)  
Garik 'Face' Loran (Human Male from Pantolomin)

Crew of the Pulsar Skate  
Mirax Terrik (Human Female from Corellia)


	2. The Greenhorn

**Chapter One  
The Greenhorn**

"Five, break to port!" Wedge yelled into his comlink. He looked up and to his left, watching as the sleek outline of a legendary Incom T-65 X-Wing slipped out of his view, followed closely by a TIE Defender.

"He's got me good, can't outmaneuver him!" Five's voice came back over the comlink, an almost panicked tone. Wedge grimaced as he saw Five's X-Wing throttle forward. _Sithspit! He's trying to outrun that Defender!_ The X-Wing was essentially flying in a straight line, making small jukes and jinks to avoid the emerald green bursts of laser fire coming at his six.

"Five, calm down and start moving! You can't outrun a Defender!" Wedge side slipped to his left and brought up the Defender on his targeting computer, but his X-Wing couldn't keep up with Five and his pursuer. As he glanced down at his targeting computer, he saw the enemy snubfighter slowly increasing the gap between them. Wedge swore to himself as he glanced up at his power distribution panel, shunting power away from his laser cannons to his engines. If he was going to get rid of this target, he'd be doing it with his secondary weapons.

"Transferring power from weapons and shields to engines, that should keep him off my six!" Wedge could hear both fear and misplaced determination in the young pilot's voice.

"Negative Five, take evasive action, do not lower your shields!" Wedge switched over to Proton Torpedoes, centering his targeting brackets over the TIE Defender. "Move, Five! You're going to be space debris if you keep this up!"

"Negative lead, I can outrun him." Five ducked under a few more shots, but the next few hit right on, tearing away at the already diminishing shields of the X-Wing. The target lock flashed red on his heads-up-display, and Wedge let loose with a Proton Torpedo, but just as the blue streak left Wedge's X-Wing, a dual linked shot from the Defender punched into Five's aft, setting off a chain reaction. Wedge watched in horror as Five burst into a ball of flame and Durasteel. Soon after the torpedo hit the Defender, whose pilot obviously was too busy enjoying his latest kill. Within moments, the debris of two snubfighters littered the vacuum of space.

Wedge slammed his fist against the flight console and leaned back into the pilot's seat. Another pilot lost, another young one at that. For the life of a snubfighter commander, each one of his pilots was like a child. Seeing any of them in trouble was painful. Loosing any of them was devastating. There were times Wedge found himself ironically amused at the fact that he still felt those pangs of guilt and despair when he lost one of his subordinates. One part of his mind recognized that those feelings could reassure him that he was still human and hadn't become a complete military machine. The other part of him wished that he could jam an electrode into his brain to remove whichever part was responsible for registering emotion. Some days, he felt too old for this job, and sadly, this was one of them.

"That's it boys. Pack it up and head back for Mon Remonda."

"You did everything you could, Boss." That was Tycho's voice over the comm.

Wedge sighed, "I know, One. Still, this is the sixth family I have to write home to this campaign…that's unacceptable."

"You know that's well within the bounds of armed combat, General," Tycho chided.

"Well it doesn't make it any easier to swallow."

Wedge sighed to himself as he lifted up the yellow blast visor on his helmet. As he tried in vain to rub the exhaustion out of his tired eyes, his astromech began plotting a hyperspace route back home. The droid's mournful whistle told Wedge it was time to make the jump. After making one last check to his vital systems, Wedge took hold of the hyperdrive control lever. Stars gave way to streaks of white light. Streaks of white light gave way to the molten black and blue of hyperspace. Any other day, and this sight might have been beautiful.

~*~

* * *

Wedge shut off the power to his datapad. These letters often made him question his drive to being a squad commander. The message was being sent to the deceased pilot's next of kin as he sat there at his desk. He had done this so many times that he had almost a formula to writing. He'd address the kin, write something trite like "it is with deep regret that I inform you of your loved one's passing." He would always say that the deceased were heroes. Wedge knew that they really were heroes, but to him, writing these formulaic letters seemed to devalue what it was they had done for the Republic. He'd close the letter, then reach into his desk drawer and pull out that flask of brandy he kept with him.

He was woken from his reverie by his door chime, "Enter."

Wedge stood upright, composing himself and trying to hide the stress that no doubt was visible on his face. Lieutenant Nawara Ven his Twi'lek executive officer, stepped into his office.

"How can I help you, Ven?" Wedge asked as he looked up from his desk, setting his datapad on the tabletop.

"New transfer orders came through," Nawara said, taking a seat in front of Wedge's desk. The Corellian pilot nodded and punched a few commands into his terminal. Nawara watched as Wedge's eyes scanned over the documents. The Twi'lek wasn't surprised in the least to see Wedge frown.

"They've given us another greenhorn," Wedge muttered aloud. "More fodder for the TIE pilots."

Greenhorn pilots were just what they sounded like. Rookie, wet-behind-the-ears kids with no idea of what they were getting into. In the last year, Wedge had lost six greenhorns in combat. Another four transferred out, never to return to active service again. They just weren't up to the task of serving in the military, let alone the fabled Rogue Squadron, where the impossible was written in the job description.

"He graduated top in his class," Nawara replied "Wes hasn't seen anything like him come through before."

Wedge couldn't help but smile faintly at the mention of his old friend. After the Adumar situation, Wes and Hobbie were transferred to the Academy to train new recruits. To say they were less than thrilled was an understatement. Still, they were good at what they did. Wedge could count on regular status reports from them, allowing him to keep an eye on any students he might have interest in recruiting.

"Seeing Hobbie try to do cartwheels impresses Wes," Wedge smirked.

There was a moment of silence. Nawara smiled slightly and looked back to Wedge "About Hobbie and Wes…"

A look of fear suddenly came over Wedge "No. Absolutely not. For the sake of my sanity and everyone else within a five klick radius, no. For the sake of the known Galaxy, for the sake of all civilization, they must never be allowed to return."

"Their documents are after the new cadet's."

Wedge shook his head. They squirmed their way back into the squadron again "How, Nawara, how?"

"I told you to stop coming on to General Salm's daughters."

Wedge shot the Twi'lek a sharp look, which was met with a toothy grin. "Oh I'll get back at you for that comment."

"Yub-Yub, Wedge," Nawara said. "If that will be all-"

"No, hold on…I'm not very thrilled about having another green pilot. I want Starfighter Command to send me someone, anyone, with combat experience. I don't care who, just send me someone. I'm not putting this kid into active duty until I know he's ready."

Another greenhorn. Wedge could only stare at the ceiling in frustration. How many more times could he do this? How many more times could Starfighter Command do this? Putting a Greenhorn in Rogue Squadron was all but a death sentence. The Rogues got the jobs no sane Squadron commander would ever accept. When the impossible was in order, the Rogues were first on the call list. It was a dangerous calling that only the best (or arguably the craziest) could handle. Some said that the average lifespan of a pilot was two years. Wedge knew the average lifespan of a Rogue was far, far less.

Wedge would sooner turn in his wings than sentence another Greenhorn to death. This kid would not be seeing active service anytime soon, not if Wedge had anything to say about it.

* * *

Flight Cadet Darvix Zorvan yawned into the back of his gloved hand. These long hyperspace jumps could bore a pilot to tears, and this was an exceptionally lengthy jump. He had heard horror stories from veterans of pilots who became so distressed by hyperspace they committed suicide in the cockpit. Hardly the way to go, but it was becoming more and more of an appealing option to him. He glanced idly at his chronometer and shook his head. "Still two more hours…"

The R2 unit behind him warbled softly, causing Darvix to smile slightly "Oh, no, you're great company, Zone. This cockpit is just a little bit cramped." And that's an understatement. Despite the fact that Darvix was a little shorter than average (apparently making him perfect for starfighter piloting), the flight cockpit of an X-Wing was a claustrophobe's worst nightmare. Darvix leaned back in his flight seat, trying to get a little more comfortable, only to ram his helmeted head into one of the seat's support struts.

"Hey, Dap, question for you," That was Major Janson over the comlink. Odd character, often times Darvix wondered who cleared him for service. Then again, he realized that this was the military. If you were breathing, you were qualified for service…well, in some cases even if you weren't breathing, you were qualified for active duty.

"Yes, sir?" Darvix asked.

"Should I change into my blue suit or go with the more traditional black?" Darvix rolled his eyes "Personally I think the blue suit accentuates my eyes a little more, but the black one-"

"Aw, not going to wear that lovely fuchsia number?" Darvix responded, grinning slightly to himself "I so enjoy seeing you in it, just sends shivers down my spine."

"Complemented perfectly by a lampshade, I might add," Major Klivian added. By far, these were two of the strangest instructors that he would ever meet.

"Ah yes, the celebration in honor of Councilor Feyla's visit," Darvix said "Major Janson, might I say that your drunken singing that night was actually on key? Though I will say your dance numbers need some work. It's a good thing I'm a man, because if I had to dance with you, I'm pretty sure you'd crush my feet."

"Quiet, you," Janson grumbled. "One more remark and you'll be taking my mess hall duty for a week."

"As I recall, Major, I'm no longer your student. Or in your squadron Or for that matter, under your control."

"Details, details, Dap," Darvix could almost hear Wes grinning through the comlink. "Don't bother me with technicalities.

As he leaned back into his ejector seat, his R2 unit trilled a message at him. "Assignment orders?" He stood upright again and lifted up the orange visor on his helmet. "About time, route it through monitor one."

He scrolled through the introductory data for a few moments. Official orders from command, forward this message illegally and you will be subject to court martial. Legal disclaimer here, legal loophole there. Darvix stopped scrolling as the orders finally appeared on his screen.

_NOTICE TO MAJ. WES JANSON, MAJ DEREK KLIVIAN, FL. CDT. DARVIX ZORVAN  
TRANSFER ORDERS PROCESSED. PROCEED TO RENDEVOUZ, JOIN WITH CAPITOL CRUISER MON REMONDA._

_DETAILS OF ASSIGNMENT:  
COMMANDING OFFICER: GENERAL WEDGE ANTILLES  
ASSIGNED UNIT: ROGUE SQUADRON_

"Hey, hey, Wes," Major Klivian said, mischief cutting through his normally dour tone. "Look who's been assigned to Rogue Squadron with us."

"As I was saying, Cadet," Janson said. Darvix could even hear the smirk on his face "That'll be a week worth of mess hall duty."

"Would now be an appropriate time to say that Major Janson is the greatest starfighter pilot, ladies man, and gentleman ever to walk the face of the Galaxy?" Darvix asked.

"Nice try, Dap."

"I thought so, sir."

~*~

Deep in the Outer Rim

A flight of Y-Wings slowly lumbered through the vacuum of space. It was another routine patrol, the kind that gave pilots a chance to lean back in their seats and read from their datapads while their astromech droids flew for them. A pilot knew he wasn't going anywhere fast when he received an assignment like this. Careers came to die in the outer-rim. Out here, the Republic knew they didn't have to spring for many supply. That was why Grey Flight were piloting clumsy, aging Y-Wing bombers. They were cheap, they were expendable.

"Omega Post to Grey Flight, report in."

Lieutenant Winree yawned, sitting up and keying on his communicator "Same as usual Omega, nothing but space debris. I thought I saw a chunk of asteroid, but it turned out to be a charred piece of durasteel."

He realized idly that he probably jinxed himself. Out of the blue, his forward sensors went on the fritz. Klaxon alarms sounded in his cockpit, registering what appeared to be target locks on his ship. Something wasn't right. His Friend versus Foe readout only showed green blips. The only people nearby were Republic ships, why were his sensors picking up target locks? "Which one of you blockheads turned on your targeting system? Whoever it is, taking your damn brackets off me!"

"Lead it isn't me!" his wingman said. "My sensors are going crazy, I don't know what's going on!"

Winree swore to himself, "Grey post we've got equipment malfunctions out here. Our sensors are picking up enemy locks, and there isn't anything out there. Grey Four, this is lead, you seeing anything out there?"

"Negative lead, I don't pick up anything visua-" Static suddenly filled the comlink. Just before the hissing took over Four's communicator, Winree could have sworn he heard laser fire. "Sithspit, we're being shot at! Omega this is Grey Flight, we've got a serious problem out here!"

Winree ran his fingers over various buttons and pulled a few levers, powering up his shield generators. Before he could get a charge into his deflectors, a pair of green laser bolts flew past the nose of his snubfighter, and a nearby explosion rocked his ship.

"Lead we lost three! Diverting power to weapons-" Static filled Winree's helmet mounted speaker once more. Quickly, he grabbed the stick and began to juke out of the war of oncoming fire.

"Omega post I've lost two and three!" Green suddenly filled Winree's vision "Taking fire! Can't pinpoint attackers! I'm pulling—"

Just then a bolt hit his port thruster, setting off a chain reaction. Winree cried out as flames engulfed his cockpit. The snubfighter exploded into fragments, joining the rest of the debris that was Grey Flight. It wouldn't be long until Omega Outpost joined the graveyard.


	3. Reporting for Duty

**Chapter Two  
Reporting for Duty**

New Republic Cruiser Mon Remonda

Wedge stepped into the hanger, shivering slightly. The hanger doors hadn't closed yet, and Magcon fields weren't the greatest insulators. Still, he wouldn't pass up a chance to see his two old friends as they stepped out of their fighters. The Rogues would be getting a few days of downtime, a perfect chance to catch up with Hobbie and Wes. They'd no doubt share a few drinks, a few laughs at Hobbie's expense, and watch Janson make a few ill-fated passes at some of the female officers on board the Mon Remonda.

Wedge took a step forward and was suddenly knocked to the floor. Instinctively he tried to reach for his sidearm, but he realized that his arms were pinned in place. Something most certainly wasn't right. As Wedge struggled to free himself from his assailent who had pinned him to the ground, an all-too familiar voice piped in.

"Miss us, Pop?" Wes asked.

"Absolutely not," Wedge returned "Now get off me before I'm forced to confine both of you to quarters."

"What did I do?" Hobbie had just stepped off the ladder hooked on to the edge of his X-Wing's cockpit.

Wedge managed to pry Wes off of him and stood up, straightening out his uniform "I still subscribe to the belief that you two are a medical experiment gone horribly wrong," Wedge smiled "In reality, you're one being that's manifesting itself as two entities. Therefore, if I punish one of you, I have to punish both of you.

A loud alarm rang overhead as the PA blared to life, "Incoming starfighter. Deck crew report to landing pad eleven."

Wedge turned towards the hanger opening. An aging X-Wing lumbered towards the vacant landing pad, directed in by the hanger's deck crew. The sound of repulsorlifts hissing to life filled the enormous room as the starfighter slowly began to set down. With a loud thud, the landing struts made contact with the cold durasteel floor. Moments later, the whine of repulsorlifts and flight engines faded. The darkened canopy of the X-Wing rose to its open position, revealing the helmet clad pilot within it.

"Ah, wonderful!" Wes said, clapping his hands together. "The Greenhorn didn't get lost."

"Unlike you," Hobbie muttered. "I still don't understand how you flew us into the Corellia system."

"Now, Hobbie," Wes chided as the three pilots strode towards the X-Wing that had just sat down, "certainly you're not going to let one little mistake mar your opinion of the greatest pilot ever to sit behind a flightstick."

"Funny," Wedge mused, "Last I checked my record was still spotless."

The new arrival had exited his X-Wing by the time Wedge arrived. It looked as if the Greenhorn was having a rather spirited discussion with one of the younger deckhands. It also appeared that the younger deckhand wanted to wet himself where he stood. Wedge frowned and approached the pilot.

"What about level out the top-port thruster don't you understand?" the pilot was clearly agitated. "Vader's Bones! Where did you study ship mechanics, Jingo's Discount Scrapyard?"

"I'm sorry sir, but we don't have the equipment available to perform that task at the moment," the deckhand replied meekly. "Besides, sir, initial scans indicated your ship was functioning well enough."

"Well enough my ass," the pilot spat. "That thing feels like a Hutt's sitting on it. Now get that damn thruster fixed and stabilized by 0600 tomorrow."

"Y-Yes sir," the Deck officer replied, quickly scampering away from the fiery pilot.

"Do a half assed job and you'll be hauling supply freighters through the Maw!" the pilot shouted at the deck officer.

Wes coughed into his gloved hand, catching the pilot's attention, "General Antilles, this is Flight Cadet Darvix Zorvan."

Right then, the pilot's entire demeanor changed. He stood up straight and brought his outstretched hand to his helmet, snapping a code-perfect salute.

"At ease, Mr. Zorvan," Wedge said. The pilot relaxed slightly, but Wedge could tell he had grown incredibly uncomfortable.

"Surprising," Wes said, brow raised. "That's the best salute he's ever shown anyone."

"That's one more than you ever showed me," Wedge responded.

"I thought our secret friendship handshake was good enough!"

"Our secret friendship handshake would get us arrested on most civilized worlds," Wedge looked towards the Greenhorn pilot. "Mr. Zorvan, I'd ask you not to frighten our deck hands to death. They're quite difficult to replace."

"…sorry, sir," the pilot said in turn.

"Just don't make misanthropy a habbit, Cadet," Wedge said. "In any case, welcome aboard the Mon Remonda."

Wedge offered the pilot his hand. The young pilot removed his flight helmet and shook his commanding officer's hand in turn. Wedge finally could take a good look at the pilot. Physically, the pilot was what Wedge expected. Slim, slightly shorter than average. Perfect to fit into the cramped confines of an X-Wing cockpit. The kid's black hair was somewhat shaggy, most certainly needed to be brought up to military code. Something caught Wedge's attention, something that was far out of the ordinary for a pilot, or for any human for that matter. His eyes. The pilot's eyes glanced around the hanger momentarily before looking back to Wedge. They were a bright, electronic blue that filled the entire eye socket. The pilot was blind.

"Lost my vision when I was young," the pilot seemed to sense Wedge's question "There wasn't any bacta available on my homeworld thanks to the Krytos scare. All the doctor's could do was quickly wire in a set of cybernetic implants before I lost all of my optic nerve endings.

Wedge could detect resentment in the pilot's voice. He knew that the young man was from a backwater world, which to this day was still under Imperial control. Just like them to deprive the people of what they need. "I'm sorry, Mr. Zorvan, I didn't mean to-"

"It's not your fault the government I was forced to grow up with chose to hoard supplies rather than give it to the people," Darvix said flatly. "If I wanted to appear noble or whatnot, I could just say my sacrifice was for the greater good of the Republic or something fluffy like that. I won't, though. We both know I was just damn unlucky."

Wedge frowned slightly, "Very well. One of the deck hands will get you your quarters assignments, you'll be rooming alone for the time being. Report to my office at 1400. Oh…Wes, you have Mess Hall duty tonight."

"I believe that responsibility is Dap's," Wes replied, grinning slightly.

Darvix grumbled to himself, snapped another salute, and moved back to his X-Wing. As Wedge walked away from the hanger, he could hear the greenhorn shouting a deck officer.


	4. Approval Process

Chapter Three

Captain Naolin stood in front of the viewpoint on the bridge of the Ender, an Imperial Star Destroyer left from the Battle of Endor. The molten black and blue of Hyperspace filled the young Captain's vision. We should be approaching Telos any day now. Imperial control was shrinking fast since Grand Admiral Thrawn was killed, but they still controlled enough systems to rebuild and destroy the plague that was the New Republic.

"Captain," a voice from the command level below him came, "Analysis from the Omega Post trial has been completed."

Naolin stepped away from the view port and looked down at the lieutenant below him, "What did the intercepted transmissions have to say?"

The young lieutenant read over the screen for a moment "Transmissions indicate that the Y-Wing flight as well as the Rebel outpost did not detect the Phantoms. The partially recovered sensor logs concur with this. It would appear that the experiment was successful."

The captain smiled. The Phantom D-34 project was brought into existence shortly after the Yavin disaster. Imperial Command realized quickly that the Rebel starfighter threat was great, and steps needed to be taken to reduce that threat. The Phantom Program was near completion, but then Endor happened, and all hell broke loose. The project didn't resume until Grand Admiral Thrawn relocated the Emperor's cloaking technology. At long last, it appeared that they had finally perfected a cloaking device to be used on a starfighter.

"As soon as we drop out of hyperspace, send a message to Moff Celia," Naolin said, "Inform him that the Phantom TIEs are ready for production."

***

* * *

Darvix tensed his hand around the flight stick and scanned the empty space ahead of his starfighter. He glanced down at one of the visual displays, checking the status of his wingmen. "Status check, Green Flight."

"Green two, everything checks out," That was Corran Horn, one of the great Rogue Squadron veterans, "Sensors still reading silent. Wonder what Celchu's got for us today?"

Darvix smiled slightly, "Cut the chatter, two. Three?"

The voice of Ooryl Qyrgg followed "Ooryl has four green lights. Sublight engines at maximum efficiency."

"Four here," That was Wes. Darvix was bound determined to get even with Janson for stiffing him with mess hall duty, "Is it true that if a Wookie falls, and no one's around to hear it, it doesn't make a sound."

"Depends, Four," Darvix responded "If the Wookie is on Coruscaunt, then it's a moot point. Someone was definitely around to hear it. If it's on, say, Tattooine…well you'd have to ask the Jawas."

"Got something on the scope," Corran said, "Reading is…one Dreadnaught, one Interdictor Cruiser. Looks like we're in for some fun."

"I see 'em," Darvix replied "Alright, to say we're outgunned is an understatement. Lock S-Foils in attack position."

Darvix looked above him to see the forward Friend/Foe Contact Screen. The red blips were increasing in number rapidly "Right, we've got a full TIE Fighter regiment, looks like a fair number of eyeballs and…" Darvix cycled through his targeting computer quickly. Sure enough…

"We've got dupes! The dreadnaught is a defector, repeat, the dreadnaught is a defector! Green Two, Green Three, take out those bombers. Four, on my wing. We'll provide cover."

"Acknowledged, One," Corran said "Come on, Ooryl, those bombers will be in range of the Dreadnaught shortly."

"Mark the dreadnaught as mission critical," Darvix said "Four, two eyeballs are breaking off and heading toward Two and Three."

"I see them," Wes replied. His X-Wing began to peel out and race towards the TIE Fighters.

Darvix followed suit, his X-Wing right in formation with Wes'. He cycled through his targeting computer and selected one of the TIE Fighters heading towards Corran and Ooryl. "You take the trailer, Wes. I'll take the dumb one who insists on flying in a straight line."

"Acknowledged, lead."

Wes broke formation and began a wide, sweeping arch toward his target. Darvix threw his throttle to full and glanced at his targeting computer. "Four, keep your targeting bracket right behind my six."

"Your funeral, Boss."

Darvix glanced behind him to make sure he wasn't being followed. With that, he threw his stick hard to port, shooting across the bow of Wes' target. "Now, Four!"

A red glow briefly illuminated his cockpit as Wes' laser blasts skirted across Darvix's aft and into the TIE Fighter. A perfectly executed Senesca Stun. "Nice shooting, Four."

"Hey lead, the dumb one's on your six!"

Darvix threw his head back in time to see a TIE fighter begin to pour green laser fire at him. "I'll handle him, Four. Go assist Two and Three."

"Like I said, Lead, Your funeral." With that, Wes arched out of formation and headed towards Corran and Ooryl.

The eyeball was still on him good. Darvix juked and jinked out of the way of oncoming fire. TIEs definitely had an advantage in space. Their speed and maneuverability made them an incredibly formidable opponent. The only advantage he had was that his X-Wing was shielded, making it so he could take more abuse. Still, Darvix thought to himself, it can't take that much abuse.

Darvix edged the flight stick down and then suddenly pulled up, throttling back to zero and slamming on the pedals. This caused his X-wing to flip on its nose, allowing eyeball to overshoot him. And bring him right into my brackets. Rather than aiming right at the TIE, he aimed well above and to the left, letting loose with a volley of red laser bursts. Just as he expected, the pilot flew right into the path and burst into a ball of shrapnel.

"Lead, dupes are gone," Corran said, "But the dreadnaught is down to quarter shields, and that Interdictor is pounding her good. We can't do anything till it's gone."

"Get a target lock on the interdictor and fire into the port shields," Darvix ordered.  
He spun his X-Wing towards the Interdictor Cruiser when his comm. Clicked to life again "Negative, lead," came Ooryl's voice "The cruiser is jamming our targeting computers."

"We can try dummy-firing the torps," Wes suggested.

"Negative, Four," Corran replied, "there's only four of us, we need at least three-quarters of our available torps to do any sort of damage. We won't be able to do that by dry firing."

Darvix thought for a moment, frowning slightly. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. He had seen holovids of this stunt working, it was risky, but it was their only shot. "Green flight, lock on to me," Darvix said, "Get a missile lock, and on my signal fire away. I'm going to fly your torps in for you."

Unofficially, this was called the Horn Substitution, named after Darvix's current flight member. When a target lock couldn't be achieved, a substitute target would be selected. The pilot would then serve as the lock for the torpedoes, leading it towards the intended target. If done correctly, the proton torpedoes would smash into the Interdictor. If not done correctly, the pilot would be space debris.

"Status on the Dreadnaught?" Darvix asked

Corran responded "Shields at ten percent and falling."

Darvix did a quick calculation in his head punched a few numbers into his chronometer. Not long after, his cockpit filled with the sound of the missile lock warning. Taking a deep breath, he shunted his shields to full forward. A torpedo would tear through his shields without any problems, so he might as well set them to a place where they could do him some good, deflecting fire from the Interdictor. He set his lasers to zero, transferring that power then to his sublight engines.

"On my mark," Darvix said, his mechanical eye still watching the chronometer carefully. Once it reached zero, Darvix yelled into his comm. "Mark, fire!"

Behind him, his wingmen let loose with wave after wave of torpedo fire. The blue streaks soared out of the X-Wings and towards Darvix. He settled his flight stick to center and flew straight towards the bridge of the Interdictor, praying that his shields would hold up. Green laser fire poured into his forward shield battery, grinding away at his protection. He gritted his teeth as he watched the shield indicator slowly decline. This was going to be close…

The torps were quickly gaining on him. For a moment, he wondered if his quick math was right. If he underestimated, the torpedoes would hit him before he could pull away. If he overestimated, the torpedoes would follow him after peeling off. Of course, none of that mattered if the Interdictor vaped him first.

His shields were at quarter strength when he finally reached the bridge section of the Interdictor. At the last moment, he threw his shields to full aft and pulled back on the flight stick hard, flying parallel with the bridge as the torpedoes slammed into it. Darvix juked out of the way of rear fire as he made his escape from the cruiser.  
"It's a hit!" Wes shouted into the comm.

Darvix veered away from the cruiser and looked to his port side as the Interdictor's shields failed, allowing the last few torpedoes to pierce the bridge. He saw as the flames blew out of its durasteel hull, venting precious atmosphere into the vacuum of space. The bridge went dark, and the Interdictor began to fall away from the dreadnaught.

"That got 'em!" Darvix said "Okay boys, mop up and escort the dreadnaught out of here."

"Great flying, lead," Corran said.

Darvix smiled, "Cut the chatter, two. We've still got some work to do."

***

* * *

  
About ten minutes later the screen in front of Darvix went black, and the canopy hissed open. He removed his flight helmet and wiped off the sweat from his brow. They definitely didn't give me these scenarios at the Academy, he mused. Taking off his gloves, Darvix stood and climbed out of the simulator. He landed with a thud on the hard floor, and soon was approached by his flight during the simulation.

"You know," Corran said "It's refreshing to see the torps follow someone else during that stunt. Great flying, but how did you time it so perfectly without your droid?"  
Darvix shrugged, "Just some quick mathematics."

Wes walked up to them, helmet tucked under his arm, "We called him Datapad at the academy for a reason… Dap for short."

"Datapad?" Corran asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Darvix is the master of useless trivial knowledge," Wes said.

The young pilot frowned, "Such as the top speed of a proton torpedo that's flying in a straight line."

Wes shrugged, "Okay, trivial information that will in no way ever get you a date. Honestly, boy, sometimes I think you're worse than Gavin."

Corran grinned, "Now that's a hard thing to accomplish."

"Okay we can leave my personal life out of this,' Darvix said, "I need to report for debriefing."

"Mind if we join you?" Wes asked

Ooryl, who had been silent up to this point, piped up "Ooryl feels it would be most beneficial to sit in on this debriefing."

"Agreed," Corran said, "Besides, I need to see that crazy stunt one more time."

The four pilots made their way out of the simulator chambers and headed towards the debriefing room.

***

* * *

Tycho Celchu waited outside the doors that lead into the pilots briefing/debriefing chambers. The simulation he had subjected Darvix to had gone over well, and he was sure that Wedge and the rest of the Rogues would be very accepting of the results. It had taken a great deal of persuasion to get the General to buy into this plan.

As Tycho looked up, he saw the four pilots, still in their gear, walking towards him. He noticed that Darvix was walking alongside Corran, obviously in conversation with him. Tycho couldn't help but smile as he saw the young pilot's wide-eyed wonder as he conversed with the long time Rogue veteran. He remembered when he was coming through the Imperial Academy, the day he met one of the Imperial legends of Piloting. Baron Fel spent a brief week at the Academy, and Tycho won an opportunity to fly with him. He himself looked at Fel that day the same way Darvix looked at Corran.

The young flight officer snapped a salute as he came up to Tycho. He smiled tightly and returned the salute "Good piloting, Zorvan. Let's get this started, shall we?"

Tycho led Darvix and his simulator flight into the briefing room. He moved over to the holoprojector and looked back at the entrance. Frozen in place was Darvix, staring at the briefing room and its occupants. The Entire Rogue Squadron was seated around the holoprojector, which currently was displaying the critical numbers for the simulator run he had just finished. Were they watching? Darvix quietly asked himself.

"Settle down, kiddies," Tycho said "Take your seats, pilots.

Darvix made his way slowly to an open seat before Tycho stopped him, "Not you, Zorvan. Stand beside the projector, if you will. General Antilles will join us momentarily."

Darvix settled himself beside the holoprojector and scanned the occupants of the briefing room. The nine other active Rogues were seated around the projector, each one scanning over the mission critical numbers on display. His cybernetic eyes couldn't allow him to clearly see the distinctive features of each pilot, just bluish outlines of their bodies. Facial expressions were nearly impossible for him to read at this distance, so over the years, he had become proficient at distinguishing body language. He could tell these pilots were ready to grill him.

He turned his gaze to the holoprojector, grimacing as he saw the numbers for the first time. Corran had scored eight kills, three dupes and five eyeballs. Ooryl had five eyeballs, and Wes had gotten six. The eyesore was under his own column. Six assists, but only one TIE on his record. By the rules of engagement dictated by the simulator run, he didn't get credit for the kill of the Interdictor, just an assist. This isn't going to look good to them…

There was a hiss from the other side of the room as the door slid open. Wedge walked in, wearing his flightsuit. He set his helmet down on a ledge near the entrance and stepped behind the podium next to Tycho "Afternoon, boys and girls. Let's get started, shall we?"

Wedge glanced over at Darvix for a moment before turning his attention back to the rest of the Rogues, "For those of you who haven't met him yet, this is Flight Cadet Darvix Zorvan, fresh from the Academy and the star of today's little simulator run."

Darvix looked over at Wedge, "Wait, sir…Did all of them see the run?"

"That they did," Wedge replied, "and now we critique."

Tycho piped in, "Here's the deal, kid. I worked out an arrangement with Wedge. There's ten of us here, excluding you. Five of us watched from here, and four of us flew in the simulator-"

"Excuse me," Darvix interrupted, "I only had three wingmen."

"Allow me," Wes said. He stepped over to the holoprojector and brought up a still of the simulator run. Highlighted was one of the two TIE Fighters that had originally broken off pursuit to go after Corran and Ooryl. "If you recall, this is the 'dumb one flying in a straight line.'"

He punched a few more buttons, and the holoprojector displayed the video of Darvix vaping that TIE. "Piloting this eyeball is none other than the good General."

Darvix felt himself stiffen as he looked over at Wedge, who had a rather amused smirk on his face. I vaporized General Antilles…

"This, of course, means," Wes said, "The stupid one owes me one day of unadulterated leave for winning the bet."

Gavin Darklighter piped in "Bet?"

"I wagered that Darvix would vape Wedge in the first five minutes of combat action," Wes said. "If you look at the timestamp, he got vaped in 4:54."

Wedge rolled his eyes, "It's time to get to the business at hand. We're all aware that for too long we've been shorthanded pilots, and that we have had a serious problem getting pilots that will perform to our standards. We've got a chance now to have a say on who flies with us.

"You have all had a chance to read over the academy records of Mr. Zorvan. Now you've seen him in an incredibly difficult simulation. The deal is this, I will clear Darvix for flight if he gets the stamp of approval from nine out of ten of us. Any less and we put him back through the simulators until he can fly to our standards. We'll start with those who flew in his flight. Ooryl?"

The Gand pilot leaned forward, "Ooryl finds that Mr. Zorvan's flying ability is quite acceptable. Ooryl would be happy to have him as a Rogue."

"Corran?"

The Corellian looked at the displayed numbers for a moment before looking right at Darvix, "Numbers can be incredibly deceiving. You've got a quick mind and figured out within seconds that we were looking at a defection scenario. He's got my vote."

Wes spoke up next, "Well I'm just a sucker for a suicidal pilot. He's a Rogue alright."

Wedge grinned and looked over to Myn Donos, "What says you, Lieutenant?"

"You've got to be either nuts or fearless to try a Horn Substitution," Donos said, "and you've got to have a great deal of skill to make it work. He belongs here."

"If he wants to die, I'm not stopping him," Hobbie said, "Make him one of us."

Inyri Forge, one of two female pilots in the Rogue roster, addressed Darvix, "He vaped Wedge, though it was probably just luck. That's got to count for something, however. I say he's in."

"I'll have to concur with everyone else," Tycho said, "Smart pilots are hard to come by, we've got ourselves a diamond in the rough."

"This guy's got a more willful disregard for odds than most Corellians," Gavin said "I like him. I will have to kill you, however, for going out with my sister."

All eyes were on Darvix, who was blushing furiously.

"Refocus, kids," Wedge said, "We can harass Darvix about his personal life later. Mr. Zorvan, you've got 8 votes of confidence. Ms. Hanadi, your verdict?"

Darvix looked at the young female. She didn't look at him, choosing instead to stare at the projected numbers. "Having only one kill is unacceptable," She said, "He had numerous opportunities to eliminate a starfighter target but choose to waste his time assessing his situation rather than acting. Hesitation like that will get someone killed. He is not fit to fly with us."

Darvix clenched his teeth. He had his reasons for passing up targets to his wingmen, and it had worked in this simulation. She had no right to second guess his flying style.

"Oh, come on, Cheriss," Donos said, "He practically vaped an Interdictor."

"He was lucky," she replied, "By all rights, that half-baked strategy should have vaped him."

Wedge held up a hand before the argument escalated out of control, "She has a right to her opinion. Looks like I get to cast the final vote."

Wedge looked at the rookie. He could tell the pilot was as nervous as a Jawa facing down a Rancor. This kid had gotten the support of nearly every Rogue present with just one simulator trial. Squadron chemistry was important, and it was clear that Darvix would fit in perfectly. I'd be a fool to let this pilot get away."

"That stunt was reckless and idiotic," Wedge said. He could see Darvix wince at that comment, "Not to mention virtually impossible to pull off, yet somehow, he did. Gavin said it eight years ago, impossible is our business. The same is obviously true for Mr. Zorvan. Welcome to active duty, Rogue Eleven."


	5. Phantoms

Chapter Four - Phantoms

The Lambda Class shuttle gently eased through the Telosian atmosphere. Nearly four-thousand years ago, the planetary surface was obliterated by a Sith fleet led by the Dark Lord Malak. Shortly after the end of the Mandalorian War, the Old Republic began a restoration project of an enormous scale. Within three-hundred years, the war torn world was once again habitable. It was one of the greatest feats the Old Republic accomplished.

Captain Naolin sat at the back of the shuttle, datapad in hand. Assembly on the first squadron of Phantom TIEs was under way, and with it the destruction of the Rebel fleet. Not even their prized Rogue Squadron would be able to stand up to these new starfighters.

"Captain," the pilot at the front of the ship addressed Naolin, causing him to look up from his datapad. "We're on final approach, we should touch down shortly."

Naolin nodded, "Thank you." He would have a few hours to settle in before reporting to the construction facility. Moff Celia would be there, and Naolin would be giving the Moff a demonstration of the Phantom's cloaking capabilities.

It's a shame, Naolin mused idly, that we can't make more than a squadron worth.

The cost of building a single squadron of Phantom TIEs was astronomical. The cloaking devices were expensive enough, but a new fighter had to be developed to house it. The unit was nearly as large as the twin-ion engines that propelled the fighter, rendering any current production starfighter useless for this ambitious project.

Naolin held on to his seat as he felt the shuttle touch down on the landing pad. The hiss of the lowering exit ramp filled the shuttle, causing the bright sunlight to stream in. He undid his seatbelt and stood, making his way down the ramp.

***

* * *

Naolin stood on the walkway overlooking the production floor. The sound of welding and machine work filled the large warehouse. Flashes of blue occasionally lit up different portions of the floor. Below him were the outlines of twelve new snubfighters. The final preparations for the Phantoms was nearly complete, and with it the final days of the Rebellion.

His comlink buzzed, waking him from his reverie. Picking it up, he thumbed it on "Yes?" he asked.

"Moff Celia has arrived and awaits you at the entrance," the voice at the other end said.

"I'll be there shortly."

The captain pocketed his comlink and made his way back towards the entrance of the compound. It had taken a great deal of time and effort to persuade Moff Celia to fund this project, but he had no doubt the Moff would be impressed with what his development crews had accomplished. For too long the remnants of the Empire stood in hiding. The Phantoms would finally allow them to strike back at the Rebels and reclaim what was theirs.

Stepping up to the entrance door, Naolin keyed his ID into the electronic pad. The heavy metal door slid open. Two armed guards stepped through, followed by a tall man. He was dressed in an expensive suit that Naolin recognized was that of Euceron nobility. The man had an aura of and power, no doubt coming from his background as a senator of the Old Republic. The years obviously had not been kind to the man, weathering away his features, leaving behind a white-haired old man.

Naolin bowed slightly, "Moff Celia, it is an honor to have your presence here."

"Dispense with the pleasantries," the Moff responded. "I trust you wont disappoint me with today's demonstration."

"I can promise you that won't happen," Naolin replied, "Your resources have been well spent.

The Moff waved off his guards, who returned to the entrance of the compound. Naolin fell into step alongside Moff Celia, looking straight ahead, hands clasped behind his back. A few years after the Battle of Endor, Celia had handpicked Naolin to lead the armed forces of his fleet. Naolin had been given the Ender at that point, one of the few Star Destroyers that was left from the Empire. Now it was one of a handful of flight ready capitol ships left in all the galaxy

The two men stopped in front of a heavy Durasteel door. Two stormtroopers stood watch over the entrance to the hanger bay that lay beyond the security checkpoint. Naolin nodded to the stormtroopers, who quickly stood aside. The captain stepped up to the door and entered in his security clearance. Slowly, the door slid upwards, allowing the men passage into the high security hanger bay.

Blue sparks illuminated the enormous hanger, the sound of technicians at work rang in the men's ears. At the center of the hanger was the Empire's new weapon, the Phantom TIE Fighter. Naolin led Moff Celia towards the snubfighter. Technicians and guards saluted as they passed, stepping away from the fighter so they could carefully inspect the fighter.

The starfighter itself was a thing of beauty, its design sleek. The hull of the ship was hexagonal, with the cylindrical cockpit mounted in front of it. The cockpit itself was reminiscent of the YT-1300 Freighter flight module. It was a far cry from the traditional TIE design, which normally consisted of a spherical superstructure that housed both the pilot and the critical components. Mounted along the hull were three triangular solar wings, helping to give the starfighter its deadly look.

"As you can see," Naolin said, addressing the Moff, "This snubfighter is designed for two pilots, a pilot and a navigator."

The Phantom was nearly twice as large as a standard TIE Fighter. It was considerably closer to the size of a Rebel snub. This allowed for a large cockpit that could accommodate two crewmen.

"Meneuverability is comparable to that of the original TIE. Defensively, it is far superior. The Phantoms are equipped with a shield generator, allowing for a greater capacity of abuse in combat."

Moff Celia nodded, "Impressive," he said, "It truly is a formidable looking starfighter, but is it functional yet?"

Naolin smiled tightly, "One week ago we ambushed a Rebel station and security flight with the prototype Phantoms. Everything indicates that it was a tremendous success."

"Very good," Celia replied as he slowly walked around the starfighter. He stood still for a moment before looking at Naolin, "Is it operational?"

The Captain nodded and turned around, signaling to a technician on the other side of the hanger. Naolin and Moff Celia took a few steps back, returning their gaze to the starfighter. The sound of mechanical whirring filled the room as the starfighter powered up, running lights signaling that it was operational. Naolin signaled again to the technician, who gave a thumbs up in response. The sound of electronic systems grew louder, and suddenly flashes of purple and blue engulfed the hull of the starfighter. With one final, bright flash, the starfighter phased out of their vision.

Moff Celia looked on in stunned disbelief. It worked! He walked toward the spot where the starfighter had been and raised his hand slowly. It came to rest against the cold, invisible Durasteel hull.

"Captain Naolin," Celia said, "I see I was wrong to doubt you."


	6. Prior Demons

Chapter Five

Darvix found himself strapped into the simulator once again. The jitters were gone, and he felt as if he could take on a Rancor by himself. He gazed into the empty space around him, relaxing into his pilot's seat. Today he was flying with only one wingman, Corran Horn. The young pilot enjoyed working with the veteran, but even more so, he enjoyed proving that his age and maturity wasn't going to be a factor.

"Incoming, lead," Corran said "Looks like a flight of Assault Gunboats, transmitting Imperial recognition codes."

"How many, two?"

"Five of them," Corran replied. "We're outgunned, recommend we bail out of here."

Darvix smiled to himself, "We can take them, two. Lock S-Foils in attack position."

Darvix reached for a lever at his side, pulling back and preparing his X-Wing for combat. He brought his snubfighter to port and brought one of the gunboats up on his targeting computer. The Assault Gunboat was a starfighter occasionally used by the Empire. Unlike a typical TIE Fighter, the Gunboat was shielded and featured a projectile launcher. Though not quite as speedy and maneuverable as an X-Wing, it was still a formidable opponent.

"Lead, this isn't a good idea," Corran said.

"Our X-Wings can take them, two," Darvix responded, "We're fine."

The targeting bracket lit up green on Darvix's heads-up display. Quickly, he pulled back on the trigger, launching a stream of crimson laser blasts towards the Gunboat. Most of them impacted on his target's shields before it veered out of his path of fire. Darvix arched his X-Wing towards the path of the Gunboat, aiming his bracket ahead of his target and pulling back on the trigger again. The shields on the enemy snubfighter failed, and the next few bolts pierced the hull, causing it burst into a ball of flame.

"Lead, I've picked one up on my six, could use an assist."

Darvix looked up and saw Corran peeling away from him. Quickly, he pulled back on his flightstick and flew towards his wingman's pursuer. He reached over to his weapons control and switched over to proton torpedoes, centering his targeting bracket over the Gunboat. Almost got him…

"He's got a missile lock on me! Going evasive!"

He tensed for a moment. I'm not going fast enough! He's going to vape Corran! Darvix's hand flew to the power distribution settings, shunting both shields and laser energy towards his engines. Come on, come on! Faster! His targeting brackets began to flash yellow, but just as they did, the gunboat fired a dual linked concussion missile battery. Moments later, they slammed into Corran, vaping him instantly.

Something inside the young pilot snapped at that moment. Letting out a loud wail, he pulled back on the flightstick and pursued the gunboat that had killed Corran. You took Loren from me already! Now you took Corran! His vision began to narrow onto the gunboat and his targeting brackets. They flashed yellow, and then red. Quickly, he pulled the trigger…

And the simulator flashed bright white, then faded just as quickly into black. Darvix sat in his seat, breathing shallowly, his hands tightly clenched around the flightstick, still holding the trigger down. He had been vaped.

***

* * *

Darvix stood at attention in front of Wedge. His entire body was still numb from the simulator run. I am a dead man. He had found out after the run that the entire point of the simulation was to see how he would react to being outnumbered. He should have aborted mission and retreated. Instead, I got the two of us vaped. Wedge had gotten his redemption. He had been the one who destroyed Darvix.

"Reckless and idiotic is what we're known for," Wedge said. "What you just did words cant describe. How the hell can you explain that childish behavior?

"I…" Darvix started. "There is no explanation, sir…It was foolish and stupid."

Wedge frowned at the young pilot, "Don't try to sweet talk your way out of this, I want to know what was running through your head, at this point I'd settle for knowing that you were even bothering to think in there."

Darvix winced. "I got angry, sir. That anger got the best of me."

"You also got overconfident. You thought that you could still outfly those Imps, not having to worry about your shields. You were so caught up in picking up speed, you became an easy target. Don't let one successful simulator run throw you out of perspective. Chances are you will die in combat, and your odds are going to be even greater if you head back out there in this mindset.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Wedge sighed softly and looked at the pilot in front of him. "Your emotions are important, its what differentiates us from the heartless Imperials. Loosing control over them will get you and your squadron members killed. Dismissed."

***

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring at the table top. He hadn't even heard Wes and Gavin take a seat beside him.

"We all make mistakes," Gavin said to him.

Darvix nodded silently. "It happens to everyone."

"Yes," Wes said, "But it still doesn't excuse your idiotic behavior in the simulator."

The young pilot frowned. He should have known better, should have controlled his emotions better-

"Come on," Gavin said, "You'll have plenty of chances to redeem yourself. Let me get you something to drink."

Darvix smiled and nodded appreciatively. Idly, he wondered if this was how a family was supposed to act. He hadn't had the best upbringing in the world.

"You have to explain to us," Wes said, "How it is that you ended up going out with Gavin's sister."

Darvix rolled his eyes and shook his head. Gavin returned with a mug of Lomin ale

"Went out with her, then broke her heart," Gavin said. "Absolutely crushed when he packed up and left for the academy."

Darvix blushed as he took a hit from his mug. That wasn't something he was very proud about. Anya Darklighter was an incredibly sweet young lady who he had fallen head over heels for during his stay on Tatooine. She was the first woman he'd ever been in a romantic relationship.

"Story time," Wes said.

Corran Horn sat beside Darvix, "Agreed. Spill it, kid."

The young pilot smiled and pushed the dark shades that hid his eyes up the bridge of his nose. "Settle in and get comfy then."

Darvix set his mug down on the table and sat up, looking at the Rogues around him. Seated at the table with him was Corran, Wes, Gavin, and Myn Donos. Tycho Celchu and Ooryl Qyrgg sat at the adjacent table along with Inyri and Cheriss. With the exception of Wedge, every Rogue was present. With a sigh, he began.

"As some of you know, I came from the Imperial controlled world of Nar Shadaa, which translates roughly into 'Glorious Jewel' in Hutteese. In reality, it was far from that. My home world simply was an urban wasteland and a polluted demilitarized zone. Conditions were terrible, not that the Imperial government cared. They starved us of any and every resource, which is the reason behind my eyes. I grew up in poverty, but despite all of this, my parents were incredibly loyal to the Empire.

"For a long time, I remained indifferent to the way the Empire ran my home…I suppose the better word is oblivious. I was unaware how bad things were on my home world. It wasn't until I was about sixteen that I began to question the government…"

Darvix stayed silent for a moment, trying to control his emotions. "I was staying with my best friend for a few days… Loren was a good kid…Good marks in school, always stayed out of trouble. His family was virtually identical to the ones you saw in Holo-sitcoms growing up, incredibly close-knit." Darvix shook his head, "I'm getting off topic… It was night when it happened. Loren's father grabbed me and threw me into a supply closet. The Stormtroopers walked into the house and lined up Loren and his family against the wall…I watched through the crack in the supply closet as the stormtroopers shot them, one by one…They started with Loren. I could hear his mother scream as he collapsed to the floor. I can't even remember hearing the final blaster shots…The last thing I heard before I ran was a stormtrooper saying 'that'll teach these Alien lovers a lesson.'

"Things with my parents deteriorated pretty quickly after that," Darvix said, "I openly began to oppose the Imperial government. My mother and father were furious with me, so mad that they signed the papers to send me to the Imperial Naval Academy. I was seventeen when I smuggled myself on board a shuttle, leaving my parents behind. From there I ended up on a remote outpost somewhere in the Outer Rim. I stole a mercenary's X-Wing, which is the same one I still fly, and made a break for New Republic territory. And that's how I escaped Imperial space."

Darvix looked around. Each Rogue was silent, taken aback by his story. The young pilot took a deep, shaky breath, still trying to calm his fiery emotions.

Corran was the first to break the silence, "I had to escape from Imperial watch myself, though I wasn't nearly as young as you were. Nor did I have to abandon my family."

"Still," Wes said, "Doesn't explain how you ended up with Gavin's sister."

Darvix grumbled to himself, "I was hoping the sob story would get me off the hook."

"Nice try, Dap."

"I thought so, sir."

End chapter Five


	7. Sparring Partner

Chapter Six

Wedge took a seat in the Starfighter Command briefing room in Imperial City. Admiral Ackbar had sent an emergency summon to every squadron commander available. The last time this happened, Wedge mused, we were told to prepare to take on the second Death Star.

"How long's it been, Wedge?" came a new voice from beside him. Wedge looked to his side and smiled.

"Since the whole Thrawn ordeal," Wedge replied, "In other words, too long, Pash."

Pash Cracken grinned back at Wedge. Shortly after the reformation of Rogue Squadron, he had accepted Pash into the unit. To this day Wedge considered him to be one of the best pilots he had ever seen.

"Any idea what this is all about?" Pash asked.

Wedge shook his head, "I haven't the slightest clue, but I've got a bad feeling about this."

Pash rolled his eyes, "What have I told you about saying that?"

"That only applies to Solo."

Admiral Ackbar stepped to the podium in front of the room and raised a webbed hand. Almost immediately the room fell silent. The Mon Calimari was the long time leader of the Rebel Alliance and New Republic Armed Forces. Before the Battle of Yavin, Ackbar was a slave under Grand Moff Tarkin, whom he learned a great deal of military strategy from. No one else had as much faith in the Rogues as the Admiral did, and Wedge could never thank him enough for that.

"I thank you for arriving so quickly and on such short notice," Ackbar said, "and I wish that we could bring you better news…General Cracken."

Airen Cracken took Ackbar's place at the podium. General Cracken was the head of New Republic Intelligence, and had been instrumental in the taking of Coruscaunt. On the other hand, Wedge thought to himself, It –was- Cracken who got me into that Adumar mess.

"Three weeks ago," Cracken began, "One of our platforms in the Outer Rim was destroyed by an unknown contact. A Y-Wing security flight reported that they were under attack. Shortly after, contact with the flight was lost, followed quickly by Omega Outpost itself. Sensor logs and transmissions recovered were unable to provide any insight as to the attackers, other than the detection of Imperial recognition codes.

"What I am about to tell you is highly confidential and is to remain within your squadrons," Cracken said, "Three days ago, we received an encrypted transmission from one of our intelligence agents on Telos, a world under the control of Imperial Moff Celia. Our agent has infiltrated a starfighter development facility that has been funded by Moff Celia and discovered this…"

The holoprojector displayed the image of a starfighter. It had all the classic marks of an Imperial TIE design, the thin, dark solar arrays, the twin-ion engines in back. Wedge noted that this fighter seemed larger than the usual eyeball or squint. Shielded, probably. Must be the Empire's replacement for the aging Avenger.

"It's codenamed the Phantom Fighter," Cracken said, "This holovid will show you why…"

The image was replaced by a static filled video file, obviously taken from a low quality, concealed camera. The Phantom was in view, in front of it two men. Wedge recognized one of them as Moff Celia, a former senator of the Old Republic as well as a Moff under Grand Moff Tarkin prior to the Battle of Yavin. The other man turned to signal a technician. Wedge leaned forward as the holovid showed the hull of the starfighter as it was engulfed in purple and blue flashes. A moment later, it phased out of vision.

"Sithspawn…!" Wedge cursed under his breath. He had seen this technology used against Coruscaunt during Grand Admiral Thrawn's reign of terror. Thrawn had released cloaked asteroids into the planet's orbit, causing a shutdown of any incoming and outgoing starship traffic.

"The Phantom Fighters have been equipped with a scaled down cloaking device, making it impossible to visually pick them up during combat. In addition, our sensors can only detect their recognition signals, but are otherwise unable to pinpoint their locations. We have learned that these starfighters are still in production, and will not be finalized and ready for combat for another two months.

"Regardless to say, every pilot we have out there must be wary. If you feel you have come into contact with these fighters, you are ordered to retreat," Cracken said. "We've called you here to make you aware of this situation, but we also need volunteers. Command is ready to send a small group of infiltrators to Telos, hopefully to put an end to the Phantom Program. General Antilles, will the Rogues accept this task?"

This is what I built the Wraiths for, Wedge mused. Then command disbanded them. He knew that by saying yes, he would easily be dooming his pilots to their deaths, but someone had to do this. If not, the consequences would be dire.

"We'll accept, General," Wedge said.

***

* * *

Darvix stepped in front of his training bag, opening it up and grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat off his body. The young pilot had just finished up a long workout and was about to head back to his quarters to shower. He was just to the door when someone grabbed a hold of his shirt collar.

"Cheriss, I've got your sparring partner!" Wes shouted across the room.

Darvix blinked, "You've got her –what-!?"

Wes dragged Darvix backwards by the shirt towards the mats laid down for hand-to-hand combat training. Wes spun Darvix around and shoved him onto the padded mats.

"Sorry, Dap," Wes said, "Cheriss needs a sparring partner, and unlike the rest of us, you have vibrosword training."

"So I'm the only one-" Darvix suddenly shot a glare at Wes, "You're a registered Vibroblade specialist!"

"Yes," Wes said, "But unlike you, I'm not suicidal."

Darvix rolled his eyes. Oh come on, like she's –that- dangerous. "Fine, but you owe me."

Wes smiled and handed him his weapon. He tilted his head as he scanned over the sword. It felt heavier than the vibroswords he used at the academy and on his homeworld, the point of balance being further up on the blade. The tip of the blade itself was unlike any other weapon Darvix had ever seen, an odd looking nozzle that replaced the more traditional sharp point of a typical blade. On the hilt, just under his index finger, was a trigger that he assumed was related to the strange nozzle.

"Adumari blastsword," Wes said. "It's an elegant weapon, sort of like a primitive lightsaber. The nozzle emits a blast of laser energy when the trigger is pulled, resulting in a nice little shock to the opponent when contact is made. Luckily for you, these blades have been powered down significantly. The neighbors complained that the smell of burnt flesh was rather disgusting."

Darvix raised an eyebrow. Okay, he mused, I'm taking on a girl wielding a blade that can put me into a bacta tank…Sounds kind of like why dad told me never to get married.

"I'd rather not hurt a blind man," a feminine voice idly said to Wes, "It isn't the most honorable thing to do."

Darvix turned his head and glared at Cheriss. Overconfident, arrogant little schutta! He thought to himself.

"Normally, I'd say no to humiliating a lovely young woman like yourself," Darvix said, "But I think this is deserving of an exception."

Cheriss shook her head, "I'll take pleasure in humbling you, oh hesitant one."

His eye twitched in frustration at her final comment to him. Darvix stepped onto the mat again and raised his blastsword in en guard stance. He may not have much of a talent with a hand blaster, but a melee weapon was another story entirely. During his stay at the Academy, he had been trained with vibroswords to compensate for his poor distance vision. The same reflexes that made him so talented behind the flight stick of an X-Wing made him just as deadly with a blade.

The young woman made the first move, thrusting inward with her blade only to be blocked and pushed aside by Darvix's own. He took a few steps backwards and raised his blastsword again. She's quick, he said to himself, How can I-

His thought process was interrupted as she lunged towards him, slicing at him with her own blastsword. As Darvix leaned away, he felt a powerful jolt run up his right arm. He quickly ducked and rolled away from her.

"Sithspit!" he cursed aloud.

"Did I forget to mention," Wes said, "That she was the reigning duelist champion on her home country?"

"Yes," Darvix replied, "You most certainly did."

Darvix deflected a few more powerful blows from Cheriss. She's fast yet still has enough power on her attack to do serious damage. He stepped back again, still trying to find some sort of weakness to exploit in her attack. As he took another step back, he felt her blade contact his knee, and another strong jolt shot up his leg. Darvix blocked yet another thrust from her and sidestepped away.

"Hesitation," She calmly added as she repositioned herself, "will get you killed."

He blocked another swipe with his blade and ducked low, rolling forward and swinging at her all with the same motion. He felt contact and pulled back on the trigger, an orange jolt surging into her thigh. She yelped out in pain and dropped to a knee for a moment, glaring at Darvix. He quickly got back on to his feet and thrust his blade forward at her, only to have it contact her own. She wasted no time in pushing back against his blade, forcing him off balance one more.

Again, he ducked under the swipe of her blade, but found himself falling flat on his back. She swung down at him, only to have Darvix roll away from her blade just in time. He dove forward and wildly flailed his blade behind his back, making contact with her. He pulled the trigger, and felt her fall to the mat as the jolt coursed through her. He quickly got up to his feet, only to have her blade lung out at his waist. He arched his body backwards, feeling the nozzle brush slightly against his soaked shirt.

She was on her feet again and was lunging quickly at him. Rolling forward, he kicked her feet out from under her. Before she could respond, he was on his feet. As she sat up, the nozzle of his blastsword was at her throat.

"Hesitation may get you killed," Darvix said, "but so will haste."

She glared at him and grabbed the nozzle of his blastsword, shoving it aside. Cheriss stood and walked off the mat. I got lucky, Darvix said to himself, She wasn't going at me with everything she could. She could have wasted me.

"Overconfident Bantha fodder," she said as she walked away from him.

"Arrogant little schutta," he said as he picked up his blade.

End chapter six


	8. Greenlight

Chapter Seven

Wedge leaned against the podium. The Rogues had assembled in the pilots briefing room on board the Mon Remonda once more. They had to cut their leave short, and Wedge would soon make it known why.

"Morning, Rogues," Wedge said.

"Turn him off, it's too early for a lecture," Wes said. Wedge rolled his eyes as he saw Wes leaning against Inyri Forge, his eyes closed. He assumed that the pilot was out late with Forge again.

"Don't make me set a curfew, Wes."

A collective groan emerged from the Rogues, followed by various objects thrown at Wes, who threw his arms up to protect his head.

"Sorry, I'll be good, father."

"See to it, young man," Wedge replied, "And down to business. First off, we've filled out the roster." Wedge motioned to his write at a man standing beside the holoprojector. He looked to be in his early thirties, having the aura of a war torn veteran to boot. His brown hair was short and neatly kept, a bit of a far cry from the usually disorganized Rogues. Like most other snubfighter pilots, he was slightly shorter than average, but still maintained an athletic build.

"I imagine most of you don't know Lane Azzameen," Wedge said, "After Endor he laid low working with intelligence. Ace, as he's known through the fighter corps, was an integral part in stealing the Shuttle Tyderium for the Endor Operation. Shortly after, he served as a gunner on board the Millenium Falcon as we took on the second Death Star. He brings with him an excellent service record, and flexibility that we've never had before. Ace is trained to fly all four starfighters that are available to the Republic. Anything to add, Ace?"

"Is it true you've got a case of '45 Corellian Brandy on board?" Ace asked, grinning.

"No comment at this time," Wedge said, raising a few chuckles from the Rogues. "Now that he's here, we can organize our flights, which is our first task of the morning. Tycho, if you please."

Tycho stood up and patted Ace on the back as the other pilot took his seat. "We've got twelve on the roster again, meaning we can divide into three flights of four. One flight will be led by General Antilles, and will consist of Wedge, myself, Gavin, and Myn.

"Two flight will be led by Corran. Your wingmen are Inyri, Ooryl, and Hobbie. Sorry, Wes, looks like your stuck with the new kids."

Wes grinned, "Fresh meat."

"Ace has Three flight, and we'll round it out with Wes, Cheriss, and Dap."

"With all due respect," Cheriss piped up, "I don't want to fly with him! He'll get me killed!"

Wedge shook his head "Take it up with me later, Cheriss. We've got more pressing matters to attend to."

Darvix gritted his teeth. It isn't my…hesitation…that will get her killed. It's her stubborn attitude…He shot a glare over at Cheriss, who returned it with her own icy stare.

Tycho spoke up once more, "Command has just asked us to undertake a mission of extreme importance. Granted, this is all highly classified, so this does not leave the briefing room." He reached to a console beside him and entered in a few commands. The lights in the briefing room dimmed, and the holoprojector came to life, bringing up an image of a forest planet."

"No, this is not Endor, Wes," Tycho said, "So don't look so thrilled. This is Telos. It's cling to fame is that it was one of the Old Republic's first successful planetary reconstruction projects. Four-Thousand years ago, the surface of Telos was obliterated by a Sith fleet shortly after the Mandalorian War. Today, only a few human settlements remain on this planet."

"In other words," Corran said, "A perfect place for the Imps to be working up something nasty."

"Correct," Tycho replied. He entered in a fresh set of commands into the console. "This video footage was taken by an intelligence operative on Telos, who will be working with us once we're on the surface."

The video that was shown to the squadron commanders on Coruscaunt played on the holoprojector, and shortly afterwords, murmurs from the Rogues filled the briefing room.

"Hell," Hobbie said, "I suppose its time to find a new day job."

Wedge spoke up next, "These are known as the Phantom Fighters. Each one is equipped with a cloaking device that will prevent visual and sensor pickups. All we can detect is their Imperial readouts, but we can't use them to figure out their positions. Currently, a squadron of Phantoms is being built on Telos, but they will not be finished for a few months, giving us time to end the threat before it gets out of hand.

"Our task is two-fold. First, we must ensure that the production facility is disabled, and the staff is either taken captive or eliminated. For that, Command will be sending in a small ground forces crew to back us up. They will arrive shortly after we set foot on Telos. Second, we are to steal as many Phantom TIEs as we can, and destroy the ones we don't take. This will allow us to analyze the fighters for any anomalies our sensors can exploit. Needless to say, this will be incredibly difficult, and chances are, we will all die a horrible, horrible death."

All eyes suddenly turned on Gavin.

"What?" Gavin asked.

"No comments on how this isn't nearly as hard as we're making it out to be?" Wes said

"Well back on Tatooine we'd fly through Beggar's Canyon on our-"

Wedge held up a hand, "Yes, yes. We all know that a pilot from Tatooine has no regard for the odds. Still, this will be dangerous. I want to say that this operation is entirely voluntary. If you don't want to do this, I won't hold it against you. Who's in?"

To no one's surprise, every Rogue held his or her hand up.

"Right, then," Wedge said, "We leave the Mon Remonda at 1200 hours and rendezvous with a Baudo class yact-"

"She didn't," Corran said. "Tell me she didn't, Wedge."

Wedge smiled tightly, "As I was saying, we'll rendezvous with the Pulsar Skate, under the command of Mirax Terrik Horn. Sorry Corran, if we had consulted you, you would have said no."

"Damn right I would have-"

Wedge cut off Corran "We will be disguised as an armored shipping service. The Skate will be escorted by three Y-Wings. Ace and Wes, I know you two know how to fly them, so you're automatically volunteered. I need a third volunteer who's got Y-Wing experience."

Immediately, Darvix's hand shot into the air. He was eager to prove to Cheriss and the rest of the Rogues that he belonged on this mission.

"No one else?" Wedge asked, "Alright, Dap. She's all yours."

Cheriss snickered, "Just like Zorvan, always living life in the slow lane."

Before Darvix could fire back at her, Wedge spoke up "Details have been sent to your terminals, use the Rogue encryption key to access it. Dismissed."

Darvix shot another glare at Cheriss before standing up and walking out of the briefing room.


	9. Comprimised

Chapter Eight

Darvix read over the information on his terminal once more. For the first leg of this mission, he was to assume the identity of Galin Sorenthal, a pilot-for-hire from Tatooine. If customs got a hold of him during the flight to Telos, he would have the documents that showed he was hired by the Pulsar Skate's captain to provide escort. Once planet bound, he would take up the identity of Harm Paremon, an assistant to a big-game hunter played by Corran Horn.

The door behind him hissed open. Darvix turned around in his seat to see the new pilot step into his quarters. Quickly, Darvix stood up and snapped a salute "Good morning, Major."

Ace shook his head, smiling. "None of that, I'm just a pilot like everyone else here. Mon Remonda's a little short of officer's quarters so I'll be dropping my stuff off here while we're away."

Darvix relaxed and nodded. After the debriefing, he took some time to look into Ace's background. For a war hero, not much was said about him. He served time with several squadrons, flying everything from Z-95 Headhunters to B-Wings. Prior to the Battle of Endor, Ace had flown his family's YT-1300 transport into an Imperial station, letting off a Command team that stole the Shuttle Tyderium. During the Battle of Endor itself, he served as a turret gunner onboard the Millennium Falcon due to a lack of available starfighters and his experience with Corellian style transports.

After the battle, Ace was taken out of the Starfighter Corps and placed into Intelligence. Not much was heard from him since then. Darvix had overheard Tycho saying that he and Wedge tried for months to get him while they were reforming Rogue Squadron, and again when Wedge had built up the Wraiths.

"Tycho wanted me to tell you that your flightsuit and helmet are by your Y-Wing," Ace said.

Darvix nodded, "Thank you, Major."

"Just Ace."

Darvix powered down his terminal and stood up. It was about time to report to the hanger for departure. Two weeks, he said to himself, and already I'm signed up for a suicide mission.

Ace had set his belongings down on the floor and was walking back to the door. "Let's get going, kid."

Darvix grabbed a duffel bag and shouldered it, following Ace out of his quarters.

"How much Y-Wing experience do you have?" Ace asked the younger pilot.

He shook his head, "Not much, Just a brief course at the Academy. What are your impressions?

The veteran smiled, "Imagine trying to steer a Bantha through a swamp. Multiply it by thirty."

The two of them entered into the staging hanger where their snubfighters waited for them. A few of the Rogues were already there, loading supplies into the Lambda Class Shuttle that would take them to the Pulsar Skate. Darvix made his way towards the aging Y-Wing that had been assigned to him. He shook his head as he opened the compartment to stow his bag. Lousy shape…, he mused.

He ran his hand over the hull, feeling the many dents and scratches that the snubfighter had accumulated over its years of service. Even though his cybernetic eyes couldn't provide him with much visual detail, it wasn't hard to tell that the fighter was on its last legs. Darvix picked up the flightsuit on the ladder leading up to the cockpit and stepped in to it. If this suit looks as lousy as it feels, he said to himself, I'm glad I'm half-blind.

Darvix climbed up the ladder and keyed the canopy release to his cockpit, looking behind him momentarily to scan the hanger. He looked back to the cockpit, only to be staring down the barrel of a hand blaster being held by a rather furry creature. With a loud yelp, he fell back and off the ladder.

"Lieutenant Kettch has your holdout pistol," Wes said, patting Darvix on the shoulder. "Pulled the same trick with Wedge a few years ago."

"Lieutenant Kettch?" Darvix asked, trying to calm his breathing.

Wes grinned, "He's our stuffed Ewok doll, and a war hero."

Darvix blinked, "I'll take your word for it. Care to get him out of my cockpit?"

"Yub-Yub, Dap."

***

* * *

Captain Naolin slammed his fist on the table in front of him. Moff Celia would have his head when he found out that a Rebel agent had penetrated the production facility. Two days ago, his men had intercepted a partial transmission encrypted in a Rebel code, and the news put the project in a great deal of trouble. They new about the Phantom Project, and that would mean that a Rebel task force would arrive at Telos within the week.

A light flashed to life on Naolin's terminal, indicating an incoming communication. He pressed the activation button and the image of Moff Celia appeared in front of him.

"Captain Naolin," Celia said "It appears that you have some explaining to do."

Naolin remained silent for a moment, contemplating what to say. "Security lapsed and allowed a rebel agent into the staging area. A transmission was-"

The image of Moff Celia shook his head and held up a hand, "That I'm well aware of. How are you going to deal with the Rebels?"

"Security will be increased at the facility and every spaceport. If the Rebels show their faces, we will find them."

"The program has been compromised," Moff Celia said, "If the rebels get a hold of the design, the Phantoms will be useless."

"I'm well aware, sir, but all we-"

"Two weeks, Captain," Celia said, cutting off Captain Naolin, "You have two weeks to finish the fighters."

"I…Yes, sir."

With that, the communication ended, leaving Naolin to himself. How are we going to get them finished in time…?

***

* * *

Iella Wessiri stepped over to the door and keyed the terminal beside it, displaying the image of the man who had just ringed the door chime. On the other side was an Imperial technician, fresh from the Phantom production facility. Quickly, she entered the command to open the door and pulled the technician in.

"You said you had news, Face?" Iella asked

The technician pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Garik 'Face' Loran had been reassigned to Intelligence shortly after Wraith Squadron was dissolved. Telos was his first assignment, and it was supposed to be brief. He had been here for nearly eight years now. Garik had long suspected that the Empire was up to something on this planet, and one week ago, he had confirmed it. Disguised as a replacement technician (The technician he replaced being conveniently under New Republic custody), he began work in an Imperial research facility. It was there that he discovered the Phantom TIE program. Shortly afterward, he and Iella sent video footage back to Coruscaunt.

"We've got a problem," Garik said, sighing heavily.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Iella replied. They hadn't received good news in weeks. The Phantom Program was progressing rapidly, and she was beginning to wonder if they could put a stop to it in time. Command had said that a task force was on the way, but not much else about their plans.

"Spill, Face."

Garik was quiet for a moment before looking up at Iella, "We've got two weeks."

"…Sithspit."


	10. Old Friends, Ex Friends

Chapter Nine

Wedge pulled back from the hug that he and Mirax were sharing. He hadn't seen his childhood friend in months, but he wished they could meet under happier circumstances. Wedge may have hated pulling Mirax into these suicide missions more so than Corran did. Still, he trusted no one else to smuggle them in. The daughter of the great Booster Terrik proved to be a fantastic smuggler in her own right.

"Corran's going to kill you," Mirax said.

Wedge smiled, "Ah, but you're the one who volunteered. I think you're missing out on your true calling in life. You're crazy enough to be a rogue…I could put in a word with the Academy."

"Thanks, but no," Mirax replied with a grin, "I prefer to have my ego in check."

Wedge feigned a hurt look, "My ego is in check!"

"Keep saying that, flyboy."

Wedge took a seat in the copilot's chair, looking out the forward viewport. The Skate was in the midst of hyperspace, and would be so for a few more hours.

"Who's flying escort?" Mirax asked.

"Wes and two of our newer pilots," Wedge responded. "Ace Azzameen and Dap Zorvan."

If something were to happen, he knew that he could trust Wes and Ace to keep their cool and handle the situation. With Darvix, he wasn't so sure. Wedge had seen something in the young pilots last simulator run that had scared him. Like a Jedi Knight, unbridled anger will lead a pilot to certain doom. He wasn't sure if Darvix could control his emotions well enough. Did I make the right decision to clear him?, Wedge thought to himself

"Got a message from Wes," Mirax said. "Says to open up communications channel Alpha-Three-Zeta and put it over the Skate's PA system."

Wedge rolled his eyes, "This should be good. Make it so."

***

* * *

Darvix leaned back into the ejector seat of his Y-Wing. Zone warbled softly behind him. "Wes? Hoo boy…better patch him through."

"'Lo Dap," Wes said, "Beautiful day for a mind numbing cruise through hyperspace."

"Isn't every day?" Darvix replied

Mind numbing didn't even begin to describe these hyperpsace jumps. For hours on end a pilot would stare at the molten black and blue tunnel, wondering where the hell the end was. The fact that he was cramped inside the tight Y-Wing cockpit only compounded matters.

"You know," Wes said idly, "You never did finish up your little story"

Darvix let out a loud groan, "You have got to be kidding me, Wes!"

"Kidding? Me?" Wes said in a mock shocked voice, "I'm insulted, pistols at dawn!"

"Alright, alright!" Darvix said, "Just shut up and I'll talk!"

"I knew we could come to an agreement."

The young pilot let out a heavy sigh, "Alright, after I stole the mercenary's X-Wing, I was on a mad dash to get out of Imperial space. I had no idea what the kriff I was doing, so I searched wildly through the navicomputer for any predetermined routes. I selected the only one that came to mind. I knew that Farmboy hero was from there, so-"

"That's rich," Ace said over the comm. "Of all the Republic worlds, you selected Tatooine."

"Unfortunately, yes. In hindsight, I probably should have chosen something along the lines of Mon Calamari. In any case, I popped out of hyperspace about a day later and declared asylum with the New Republic. I ended up in the Embassy at Anchorhead where I sat doing absolutely nothing for a month.

"I suppose it was by dumb luck that I ran into Jula Darklighter, Gavin's dad-"

"We're aware," Wes said, "When are you going to get to the juicy details that I can circulate through the Rogue gossip mills?"

"Patience, young apprentice," Darvix replied, "As I was saying, I had run into Jula, who was looking for some hands on his farm. I begged him to let me go work for him-"

"Because you felt that it was your duty to repay the Republic who had taken you into their fold, and you felt that this was an appropriate way to start?" Ace asked.

"…No…not really. Mostly I was just bored to tears and was willing to do anything to entertain myself. In any case…"

***

* * *

"In any case," Darvix's voice said over the intercom. "I ended up at the Darklighter farm where I spent the better part of a year. I'd do odd jobs like fixing the vaporators and fixing the terminals. You have no idea how much dust gets into machinery out there."

Gavin smiled slightly and shook his head. It'd been a while since he was home, and it was refreshing to hear some stories from there. He took a sip from his caf and listened in to the conversation again.

"Few months after I showed up was the rather popular Moisture Festival in Anchorhead. Social gathering that occurred every year. Jula was under the impression that I was working too hard and insisted that I go."

"Good for you," Wes said, "You never get out enough, young man."

"Cut the chatter, Wes. There was a catch, however. Traditionally teenagers were supposed to go with a date. Naturally, of course, I had no idea who in the Force's good graces to ask. It wasn't until the day of the event itself that I found someone

"Anya Darklighter- Gavin's younger sister- had just broken up with her boyfriend a few days prior and was without a date to the Festival. Out of desperation on both of our parts, we decided to go together as friends.

Next to Gavin was Cheriss, who snickered, seeming to balk at that idea, "Has she no honor? Or is she truly that desperate?"

"Hush," Inyri said, "He's about to get to the juicy part."

"Jula let myself and Anya off work for the day and said he would pick up the slack himself. I drove us by speeder to the Festival…What a day, music, food…dancing. Even though we just went as friend we ended up sharing a number of dances together. She showed me some of the steps popular on Tatooine and I showed her some from my homeworld.

"We had a great time, came home past dusk. I uh…walked her back to her room. We made the usual comments, how we had a great time with each other."

"Did you…?" Wes asked.

"…Yeah. We shared a kiss in front of her room. Her mom walked in on us at that point, so no, Wes, We didn't go further. Things took off from there, went steady for about a year. Jula came up to me one day and sat me down. He had been watching me flying the family's Skyhopper and felt that I should go to the Academy to receive flight training. He pulled some strings, and I got permission to take the entrance exams. Not long after that I was accepted into the academy. Regardless, this meant that I would be leaving Tatooine…and Anya. We had grown close, so it was a hard decision for me.

"She was incredibly supportive, but I could tell she was heartbroken…as was I for that matter."

The day after Darvix left, Gavin had gotten an enormous letter from Anya. She was crushed, but he knew she would move on. Anya was tough, like every Darklighter.

"Did you stay in contact with her?" Ace asked.

"We did…"

***

* * *

Darvix leaned back into his seat again. "We did, we're still close friends.... I suppose that's it."

His comm. came to life again, "Touching story, Dap," came a new voice…Wedge's voice? "Just letting you guys know we're dropping out of hyperspace in about an hour."

Darvix was silent for a moment. How did Wedge hear that…?

"…WES!"

"It was rather touching, Dap," Wes said.


	11. Mistakes

Chapter Ten

The Pulsar Skate and her Y-Wing escorts dropped out of hyperspace and into the Imperial Customs checkpoint. If anything on this leg of the flight were to go wrong, it would probably happen here. Intelligence had carefully forged the documents, but one slip-up by anyone on the task force, and they would either be high-tailing it back home or space debris. Neither option appeared very pleasant.

Mirax saw the indicator light on her communications panel flash to life. They were being hailed by the officials. If they didn't buy this, it was going to be a very short mission.

"Incoming vessel, identify yourself."

Mirax keyed her transmitter, "Imperial Customs, this is the Corellian Lightning, requesting permission for passage."

***

* * *

Darvix switched his communications frequency over to the customs line.

"…Requesting permission for passage."

"Ackknowledged, Lightning. Identify the escorts."

Darvix held his breath for a moment, praying that they wouldn't become suspicious

"Mercenary escorts, their records should be on the manifest we're transmitting."

The comm. remained silent for a moment. Buy it, Darvix thought to himself, I'd rather not get vaped today…

"You're all cleared. We just need to know your course and purpose."

"Shipping small arms and transporting a few big-game hunters to Telos," Mirax said. "How's the hunting down there?"

Darvix breathed a sigh of relief, he would live to see another day. He relaxed his grip on the flightstick and looked forward again. As soon as they made it past this checkpoint, they would have a clear pass into Telos. Unfortunately, he mused, that's where the danger really begins.

"Everything checks out, Lightning," came the voice at the customs station, "Happy hunting."

Darvix reached forward to switch communications channels, but suddenly felt the urge to resist. Something wasn't right. His eyes began to scan around the space near the checkpoint. In the distance, Darvix thought he could see the faint outline of ships exiting the station. Quickly, he cycled through his targeting computer. Two interceptors and two bombers were in formation, heading towards a mass of freighters about eight kliks away.

The comm. came to life again "Attention container transport Zeta One, we have detected the presence of alien lifeforms onboard. Disarm shields and prepare to be boarded."

Oh sith! he thought to himself, they're smuggling non-humans into the Republic! Darvix looked to his right, where Ace's Y-wing was. The veteran was looking over at him, and had obviously seen how distressed Darvix had suddenly become. Darvix pointed to his mechanical eyes and then held up ten fingers: look to position ten.

Ace leaned forward in his seat and looked forward and to the right of his snubfighter. The freighter was throttled up at full and was trying to escape the pursuing starfighters. We've got to help them, Darvix said to himself.

He looked back to Ace, who was leading this flight. Darvix waved his hand over his head and pointed back to the freighter, still maintaining radio silence: Cover freighter. Ace simply shook his head and moved his hand along a line over his throat, a negative. Darvix slammed his fist into the console. The young pilot looked at the freighter, they could make it in time to take out the dupes and squints.

Darvix made the same hand gestures to Ace, who quickly returned it with a negative once more.

***

* * *

Wes's radio clicked alive, "What's going on back there, two?" That sounded like Wedge, he'd noticed Darvix's now erratic flying. Quickly, Wes keyed on his transmitter

"I don't know, Lightning," Wes replied, "I don't have a good visual on him and he's not responding to my hails."

Ace's voice came on the line next, "Lightning, he's picked up a few TIEs pursing a freighter, and he seems desperate to go help them. I've got visual on three, but he's not looking very good."

Wes craned his neck, finally spotting Darvix, "Lightning, he's peeling away from formation. Something's wrong, I think he's lost control of his ship."

***

* * *

Time seemed to stand still for Darvix. His breath caught as the blue streaks of proton torpedoes exited the dupes and flew towards the transport. What are they doing!? His mind screamed. Innocent people are on board that ship! His hands were shaking and he could barely keep control of the flightstick. Darvix watched in horror as the torpedoes slammed into the freighter. For a moment, the young pilot's vision blacked out.

***

Darvix's mind raced. He didn't know where he was or what he was doing. All he saw was a Twi'lek in front of him. Why was the alien begging? Why did he look so scared to see Darvix? He then noticed the blaster in his hand. What am I doing? Darvix thought to himself.

The Twi'lek silently pleaded with him once more. Darvix tilted his head, studying the being in front of him for a moment…Then he pulled the trigger. The bolt coursed through the Twi'lek's stomach, and he slowly slumped to the ground, blood covering the wall behind him.

Oh, sith…, Darvix said to himself, What have I done!?

***

* * *

Ace looked over and saw his wingman suddenly throw his hands to his head, clutching his flight helmet. Darvix's mouth was wide open, no doubt letting out a scream of agony. The text display on his flight console came to life, a message from Darvix's droid. Ace glanced over it and quickly keyed his comm.

"Lightning this is one," Ace said, his eyes still locked on to Darvix. "We've got a problem here. Dap's droid reports that he's gone completely incoherent in the cockpit. Ordering it to fly him in to your storage bay."

"Acknowledged, One."

***

Wedge burst into the storage bay, pushing past a few of the Rogues, "Where the hell is he!?"

Corran Horn grabbed a hold of Wedge, keeping him away from the parked Y-Wing. "He isn't going to talk his way out of this one!" Wedge shouted

"Easy, Wedge!" Corran said, stepping out of the way.

Wedge held his breath as the young pilot came in to view. There lay Darvix Zorvan on the floor, curled up in the fetal position and sobbing hysterically. Wedge could do nothing but stare at him. Every now and then, Darvix would let out a choked 'I'm sorry.'

The battle seasoned Antilles had seen this before, but this time the image would haunt him to his grave. Darvix Zorvan had suffered an emotional breakdown in his cockpit.

Wedge let out a breath and shook his head, "Get him to a bed, Corran…"


	12. Coping Methods

Chapter Eleven

Darvix looked up at the man. He was wearing an Imperial officer's uniform and had that self-righteous smirk on his face. Darvix looked forward again. Two Twi'leks were already on the ground, dead. The wall behind them was covered in their blood. Another Twi'lek was in front of him, sobbing hysterically…She couldn't have been much older than twelve.

Stop it, Darvix! STOP IT! His mind screamed

The officer looked back at Darvix, handing him the blaster he was holding. Without hesitation, he took it and looked back at the young alien before him. He could see the pleading in her eyes, but she was too frightened to say anything to him. The tears were streaming down her face. She shook her head, silently begging Darvix to spare her.

Don't do it! She's innocent!

He pulled the trigger. The young girl fell to the ground, and fresh blood coated the wall.

He couldn't suppress the smirk that slowly came to his lips…

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan let out another blood-curdling scream. For the last two hours he had been barely cognitive, thrashing violently on his bed and sobbing uncontrollably. Something had happened to him out there that caused him to snap, and unless they figured out what to do to help him, the Rogues would be a man down.

He began to flail again, waking up Cheriss ke Hanadi from her state of reverie. She'd been assigned to watch over him for a while, a rather meaningless task if you asked her. Quickly, she moved over to him and tried to calm him down, only to be pushed away by the completely incoherent pilot. Cheriss moved to the console mounted on the wall beside Darvix, keying the transmission button.

***

* * *

Wedge shook his head "How could Academy not have spotted this?"

"You know as well as I how fast command is pushing pilots through right now," Tycho replied. "If they can hold on to a flight stick they're mentally competent in their eyes."

Wedge let out a heavy sigh. Not too long ago he had to deal with this situation. Myn Donos had witnessed the destruction of an entire squadron, the one he was commanding. When his droid, who he viewed as the sole remaining survivor of the squadron, ceased to function, he snapped. The pilot had been introverted before then, but after that he was a total mess. It really wasn't until Myn and Wes sat down for a conversation that he began to pull himself out. Somehow, Wedge doubted a few cute lines from Wes would bail Darvix out of his state.

"What do you suppose is wrong?" Tycho asked.

"Something from his past back to haunt him," Wedge said, "When those dupes took out that freighter he snapped. Might have triggered something in his head."

Tycho suddenly looked up towards the console behind Wedge, "Uh oh. Cheriss is calling for help."

***

* * *

Wedge and Tycho burst into the room where Darvix and Cheriss was. Darvix was thrashing violently, screaming the phrase 'I'm sorry!' in between sobs. He was getting worse and fast.

"Tycho grab a sedative!" Wedge yelled to the other pilot.

Tycho hurried to grab a nearby medkit and began digging through it for supplies. Cheriss was struggling to hold Darvix down, causing Wedge to hurry over to her aid. All this got Wedge was a right hand hook from Darvix, who apparently was conscious enough to fend him off. Tycho had returned with a sedative, but with Darvix thrashing about, there was no way to administer it to him.

Wedge didn't even see it coming; all he heard was the loud smack. He looked up at Cheriss, who had just backhanded Darvix across the face. He was stunned just long enough for Tycho to give him the sedative. The young pilot momentarily looked up at Cheriss, a hurt look on his face. Soon after, his eyes closed, and he fell back on to the bed.

***

* * *

Wedge walked out of the room with Cheriss and Tycho, rubbing the side of his face that Darvix had punched.

"He's got to talk to someone," Tycho said.

Cheriss shook her head, "I don't think he's going to want to talk to anybody."

Wedge thought for a moment. It was true that Darvix hadn't been with the Rogues long, and hadn't had the time to form any strong friendships with the pilots…but there had to be someone he'd talk to.

"This isn't good," Wedge said, "Being a man down is not going to help us once we get to Telos."

Tycho just looked at Wedge for a moment, "It gets worse, Wedge."

"Oh sith…what?"

"Well," Tycho said with a sigh, "Cracken saw Darvix's file while preparing for this raid…He's cross-trained as a slicer, so Cracken didn't bother to send another one with the team following us."

Wedge clenched his teeth. Perfect, he said to himself, just…perfect…

"Wonderful. Now we're short a pilot and a terminal slicer."

Who could he have talk to him…

Wedge looked up at Tycho, "Go get Corran."

***

* * *

Wedge had seen Darvix and Corran sharing numerous conversations back on the Mon Remonda. If Darvix was willing to listen to anyone, it would be Horn. He had been on every simulator run that Darvix had participated in, obviously he felt as if Corran was a pilot to be trusted.

Corran was seated next to Darvix's bed. The young pilot had awoken and was staring straight up at the ceiling, completely silent. His brow was covered in sweat, his breathing still ragged. Corran could see the stains Darvix's tears had left on his face.

"Dap," Corran said softly, "I need you to talk to me…"

Darvix simply shook his head. He wasn't going to talk unless Corran did something drastic. Corran looked back at Wedge and nodded.

"Dap, I'm going to try something," he said, "I promise you, I wont hurt you…do you trust me?"

This time Darvix's response was a nod. Corran let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. A moment later, Darvix's breathing became deep again. It was as if he was looking into space.

"Dap…what happened in your Y-Wing."

Darvix took a breath, "I…I saw myself home, years ago…Nar Shadaa…I don't think I was much older than fourteen. There were three of them…three Twi'leks, a family I believe…mother, father, and their daughter. Couldn't have been older than twelve. I… I was with an Imperial Officer. He was angry with them for something. Before I knew what happened, he had shot the two older Twi'leks in front of their daughter…"

He was silent for a long moment, "The officer handed me his blaster and told me to finish the job, to wipe this pathetic alien off the face of the Galaxy…The empire would be better off without her. She looked at me, begging me not to. I didn't even hesitate, the Empire would be better off…I…"

A sob escaped Darvix's throat, "I shot her! Oh, sith, I killed her!"

Wedge took a step back. He could feel his anger for the Empire growing with every moment. They had brainwashed Darvix as a child to believe that alien species were a blight to the Galaxy, and he had killed one without a moment's thought. Wedge felt his hands ball into fists…

"Darvix, listen to me," Corran said, "You didn't know any better…If you hadn't done it, that officer probably would have killed both of you."

"I killed her, Corran! I'm no better than those mechanical monsters!"

The young pilot was sobbing freely again.

"It's alright, Darvix…It's alright."

***

* * *

An hour later, Darvix was asleep again, Corran had managed to calm him down. He and Wedge watched Darvix for a while, to ensure that he would be alright.

"No one should have to carry that kind of burden," Wedge said.

Corran could only shake his head, "It explains it though. When that freighter was attacked, the memory resurfaced hard. He felt like a murderer for not helping the freighter, and when the memory came back to him, he lost it."

"Is he going to be okay?"

Corran motioned to Darvix. Wedge could see his left hand slowly clenching and unclenching. "Force-induced hypnosis… While I was talking to him, I told his mind to clench his hand, rather than mentally collapse again when the memory comes to him. In other words, meatball psychiatry."

Wedge nodded, "Good thinking…"

"It's only a temporary solution, Wedge," Corran said, "He needs serious evaluation and help. Who knows what else he's buried in his subconscious."

Wedge sighed. The Empire would pay for what they had done to Darvix.


	13. Mutual Disagreement

Chapter Twelve

The Pulsar Skate settled down on the landing pad with a hiss from the repulsorlifts. On approach, Telos didn't look overly exciting. The planet was covered by evergreen trees that gave it a dark green look from space. It was a lot like other arboreal worlds: the forest moon of Endor, Kashyyk.

If Han were here, Wedge mused, He would probably have Cracken shot.

The ramp of the Skate lowered and Wedge stepped off, shouldering his supply pack. He could see Ace and Wes approaching him, still clad in their flightsuits. He hadn't had a chance to talk to them since they left Imperial Customs over a full Coruscaunt-standard day ago.

"How is he?" Wes asked. It was a rare occasion when Wes showed any signs of maturity. Wedge knew that behind the image of an eternal child lay a very devoted pilot.

"He's holding up," Wedge replied. "Barely."

Darvix had become isolated soon after Corran talked to him. He spent much of the flight to Telos in his temporary quarters, working away at a terminal. He'd leave to get something to eat, but wouldn't speak to anyone who tried to strike up conversation with him. The Rogues were genuinely concerned about him. Wedge had even spotted the usually indifferent Cheriss looking at him with worry.

It was irresponsible to allow Darvix to continue on this mission, but there was no other choice. The Rogues needed every available man they could get, and the fact that he was a trained slicer made it impossible for Wedge to send him back to Coruscaunt. He would share a few words with Cracken when he got home…if he got home.

***

* * *

The Rogues had split into a few groups to keep a low profile. By the end of the day, everyone was supposed to meet at the safehouse where two Republic Intelligence agents would brief them on the current status of the Phantom program. Intelligence said they would have a little less than two standard months to execute a plan to take down the Phantom program as well as the minds behind it.

Wedge looked over at Darvix. The younger pilot was staring out the window of the speeder, his left hand clenching and unclenching slowly. Wedge himself had been directly responsible or helped caues the deaths of countless lives over the years. Every TIE he vaped, every Star Destroyer he helped to down…The Death Stars and its innumerable crew members. Not once, however, had Wedge killed someone for the sake of killing. He couldn't begin to fathom the burden on Darvix's conscious. Still, Wedge wouldn't be able to look at Darvix the same way anymore, no longer was he the innocent, wide-eyed young man that had come into his squadron only weeks ago.

Wedge saw Wes look back at Darvix. Why is it, Wedge thought to himself, that Wes gets that look of mischief at the most inappropriate times?

"You know," Wes said, "I've had this tune stuck in my head all day and I just can't seem to remember the name of it."

Hobbie, who was seated behind Wedge let out a groan, "Oh no. Not this game…"

For the first time in what seemed like at eternity, Wedge saw a small smile crawl to Darvix's lips. Wes loved to play 'Guess this tune.' It seemed that he could name just about any song, by any artist. Wedge could swear he saw Wes with a personal music player during most squadron meetings… which would explain why he was so good at this game.

"Wonder if any of you guys can remember it," Wes said, "I used to listen to it as a kid."

Wes hummed a few bars, but Wedge couldn't even recognize the tune. Just like him to pick something incredibly vague. The last time he played this game with Wes, he ended up assigning him to mess hall duty for a month out of anger.

"Sith, Wes," Hobbie said, "I haven't the slightest idea."

For the first time in a long while, Darvix piped up, "Space Off by Gerlon and the Lunatic Pilots."

"Nope, it's…" Wes suddenly looked back at Darvix. He wasn't sure what was more surprising, the fact that Darvix had finally said something, or that he had just correctly guessed the name and artist of the incredibly obscure song he had hummed.

Wedge couldn't help but grin. Wes had gotten Myn Donos out of a rut years ago, and it looks like he might be able to help Darvix out.

***

* * *

Inyri Forge, Gavin Darklighter, Tycho Celchu, and Cheriss ke Hanadi sat around a table in the small bar a few kliks from where the Skate had set down. Gavin and Tycho were nursing their mugs of ale, the first ones they had seen in over a day, an eternity by their standards

"Shh," Gavin said to his mug, "You're in a better place now."

Inyri shook her head. Men had some strange quirks. Men of Rogue Squadron were just strange. Despite that, she said to herself, I'm going out with one. Inyri wasn't sure exactly what it was that drew her towards Janson. Maybe it was his boyish looks, perhaps it was his excellent marksmanship with a blaster. It might have just been the fact that his untamed humor was a bright light in her otherwise sad, dreary life.

She glanced over at Cheriss, who was staring idly into the wall at the other side of the bar. That's not like her, she thought, Cheriss is always alert.

"Wonder how Dap's holding up…" Gavin said idly.

With that, Cheriss suddenly snapped back to attention, a scowl on her face. "If he's got any sense of honor, he'll be back to his normal, ever hesitant self."

Inyri grinned to herself.

***

* * *

"Dap?" Wes asked, looking to get his attention.

"Yeah, Wes?" Darvix responded.

Wedge smiled again. He had discovered that the young pilot had a great love for music, and had spent the last half hour talking with Janson about all the songs they had heard over the years. They had laughed hysterically when Darvix had brought up the tune 'Ewok Dance.' Darvix seemed to have returned to his usual, vocal self, thanks to a few cute lines from Wes Janson.

"What's your take on the women of Rogue Squadron?" he asked.

Hobbie groaned again and Wedge simply shook his head. If Wes Janson wasn't cracking a joke, he was making comments on the female sex. Some things never change, Wedge said to himself.

"Well, Inyri's a bit old for me," Darvix replied.

Wes grunted, "Not to mention unavailable."

Hobbie spoke up next, "Well, what about Cheriss?"

Darvix stood upright, a glare on his face, "Oh, yeah. What's there not to love about a girl who's so obsessive with 'personal honor…'

***

* * *

"Come now," Inyri said, "Certainly he's not –that- bad."

Cheriss shook her head, "He's overconfident, thinks he can take on the entire Empire with one hand sliced off by a lightsaber. One good simulator run and he thinks he's invincible and capable of taking down Wedge Antilles with one burst from the trigger."

Now this is entertaining, Inyri mused.

"Gets lucky on the dueling mats –once- and he thinks that he's my equal with a blastsword. Cocky enough to volunteer for the most dangerous missions without any reguard for his well being…"

***

* * *

"Runs head-first into everything without even considering what the consequences are!" Darvix said. "She'd take on an entire regiment of TIE Fighters without a thought."

"You're the one who took on four gunboats against two X-Wings," Hobbie said.

If looks could kill, Hobbie would be dead ten times over. "She throws any sort of strategy to the wind and attacks head-on. And have you seen the way she looks at me every time I bring something up during a meeting?"

***

* * *

"Have you seen the way he looks at me every time I bring something up during a meeting?" Cheriss asked to no one in particular. "He's always got that grin on his face, oblivious to everything around him!"

"I'm told Skywalker looked like that before he took on the Death Star," Tycho quipped.

Cheriss glared at Tycho for a moment, "And that haircut, for the love of the Force! Who the hell does their hair like that anymore!?"

Inyri set down her mug and looked at Chreiss, "True…but he does have a rather nice rear."

Cheriss looked baffled for a moment, "I…Well…That's beside the point!"

***

* * *

"Would it kill her to do something with her hair?" Darvix asked, "Always tied back the exact same way day in and day out!"

Wes piped up, "Some guys like that. Admit it, though. She's a good looker."

Darvix could only stare at Wes and stutter incoherently.


	14. The Pitfalls of Duty

**Chapter Thirteen - Pitfalls**

"How's Iella, Wedge?" Hobbie asked.

Wedge grimaced a bit. To be perfectly honest, it was still a sore subject with him. About six months earlier Iella had received orders from Airen Cracken, the Director of Intelligence for the New Republic that had taken her away from home and stationed her somewhere in the Outer Rim. Normally for two duty-bound servants of the New Republic, this would have been an order that was accepted. For a husband and wife that were trying to finally settle down and start a family, it was devastating. They had been given assurances from Cracken that Iella wouldn't be sent so far off-world again.

"She's somewhere on assignment," Wedge admitted, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I..uh..I'm sorry, Wedge," Hobbie said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it."

There were a lot of things in life that Wedge regretted. He regretted losing his parents, he regretted dooming many of his friends to death by leading them in to war. He felt guilt pangs when he thought of the families of each TIE pilot he vaped. He regretted pulling out of the trench, helplessly watching Biggs offer himself as a target to buy Luke more time. Now, his biggest regret was not standing up to Cracken. They had been promised this wouldn't happen again. Granted, in the backs of their minds they knew it was always a distinct possibility. That didn't ease the sense of betrayal they had felt.

Antilles, he said to himself, You're an idiot.

* * *

Corran had remained behind on the Skate with the rest of the Rogues. He was still furious that Mirax had gotten messed up in this operation; invading an Imperial research facility was not his idea of a romantic getaway with his wife. Corran sighed softly. He never seemed to have enough time with her. Whenever they were together, it was during situations like these. As soon as they got back, he would take her on a nice trip to Mon Calamari. She always said she loved the beach.

Ooryl and Ace were behind him, checking over their weapons and munitions. They would be hauling the crates that stored them to the safehouse in a few hours, and the two of them were in the processes of concealing the contents in case the local authorities searched them. Blasters, Corran mused, rather clumsy weapons.

The back of his fingers brushed against the cool cylindrical shape of his lightsaber. The weapon had belonged to his great grandfather, a Jedi Knight from his own home world of Corellia. Corran had been surprised to find out that he, too, was a Jedi.

The crates were being loaded into the speeder when Corran spotted a security guard moving towards them.

"There goes the neighborhood," Ace muttered from behind him

Corran frowned as the guard moved closer to the Skate "I'll handle them."

"No you won't," Came a new voice from behind him. Mirax nudged Corran to the side, "Last time you tried your mind games you fell off a balcony and ended up in a bacta tank."

"Zing," Ace said.

Corran rolled his eyes and stepped back to one of the crates, carefully picking up a blaster and setting its power output to stun. He kept an eye on Mirax and signaled to Ooryl and Ace, telling them to step up the pace.

"Is something wrong?" Mirax asked the security guard, flashing that smile that never failed to melt Corran into a pile of goo.

The young guard looked at her, slackjaw for a moment before finally managing to get a few words out of his mouth, "Nothing wrong, miss. Just a routine cargo inspection."

Mirax pouted a bit, "I'm on a real tight schedule, I can't afford to fall behind…Surely you can understand."

A smuggler had to have many skills, good charisma being one of them. Corran could see the young security guard considering his wife's 'plight.'

"Well," the guard said, "My superiors would have my head if I didn't do this…but I could make it up to you later."

The smile on Mirax's face was gone, replaced quickly by a scowl. "I don't think so." With that, her knee made contact with the guard's stomach, followed quickly by her right fist to his face. The guard doubled over and fell to the hard Duracrete floor.

"If all else fails," Corran said, walking up to his wife, "Use brute force."

Mirax smiled and returned to the skate, 'accidentally' kicking the guard in the stomach on her way.

* * *

Wedge undid his restraints and stepped out of the speeder. He knew Intelligence liked to lay low, and this place was a perfect match for their tastes. They had just arrived at an old base that had been built by the corrupt and now-defunct Czerka Corporation during the Old Republic's restoration of the planet. Legend has it that Czerka and its mercenaries were run off planet by a single Jedi Knight.

Most of the old bunkers had been overrun by the foliage and were now useless. There was even an old landing pad in the center, but the tall trees that had grown around it made it inaccessible by pilots. The area reminded him of the structures the Empire had set up on Endor to shield the second Death Star.

"Lt. Kettch would have loved this place, Wes mused, "But Dap insisted that we leave him behind."

"He's a stuffed doll, Wes!" Darvix replied

"I don't think war heroes appreciate being called that."

"He's a stuffed doll! A stuffed EWOK doll!"

Wedge couldn't help but laugh. Even when facing down a mission that would likely lead to their deaths, Wes could always manage to lighten the mood. The man would be telling jokes to his last, dieing breath.

"Wedge!" a male voice called from across the compound. He recognized that voice instantly. Wedge hadn't seen the man in over eight years, since Wraith Squadron was dissolved and the members placed into Intelligence.

"I should have known Cracken would send you," Face said. "Leave it to the Rogues to save the Republic."

Wedge gave Face Loran a warm hug. Face had been instrumental in various missions of Wraith Squadron. His acting background made him the perfect agent to infiltrate a number of targets, including Warlord Zsinj's own fleet.

"Got a place where we can sit and grab something to drink?" Wedge asked

Face nodded and led Wedge and the Rogues that had accompanied him into the compound. Wedge walked into a tunnel that led underground. The structure had to be about four thousand years old, but it had held up well. The building was well lit and ventilated, making for a somewhat pleasant living environment.

"I'm glad you finally made it," Face said, walking up to another door, "The Phantom project has been progressing so rapidly, we feared that we might not be able to stop it in time."

Face entered in his identification on the console by the door. With a hiss, the heavy, metal door slid open, allowing the Rogues to step in. Wedge suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. At the far end of the room sat a woman at a terminal, someone Wedge could recognize without any difficulty. She must have heard them entered, for she looked over at them.

"…Wedge," the woman said, "I should have known…"

"I…Iella," Wedge muttered.


	15. Downtime

**Chapter Fourteen - Downtime**

By sunset, every Rogue had arrived at the safehouse without incident…with the exception of Corran's group, that is. They had gathered in a makeshift briefing room and were about to hear the latest intelligence that Face had brought from the production facility.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Face said, raising a hand to silence the quiet conversations throughout the briefing room, "I'm afraid that I've got some very bad, bad news."

"Oh no," Wes said, "They've cancelled casual day on the Mon Remonda."

"Every day was casual day to you, Wes," Inyri replied. "We're relieved any time you show up to a briefing in something resembling clothing."

"I resent that!" Wes said, standing up, "I've got a body any guy would kill for!" He lifted up his shirt, only to have blunt objects thrown at him by everyone else in the briefing room.

"Shut up and sit down, Wes," Face said. "I don't think Inyri appreciates you displaying yourself to the rest of the Rogues." He had to quickly duck under a thrown caf mug from Inyri.

"In any case," Face continued," Two days ago, we intercepted a transmission from Moff Celia directed to Captain Rayov Naolin, the man in charge of the Phantom D-34 project. In short, the production time had been cut to two weeks. They must have caught wind of us, so they've decided to speed them through in hopes that we won't be able to stop them. In other words, we've got to act fast."

A portable holoprojector in the center of the briefing room came to life, displaying the layout of the Imperial production facility.

"As you can guess," Face said, "This is the facility in which the Phantom Fighters are being produced. The structure is embedded into a mountain about ninety kliks north-east of here."

One of the larger rooms was highlighted in red, "This is the production floor and hanger. The doors are at the far end of the mountain, and must be opened by a terminal at the back. Under no circumstances will we use explosives in this area. One wrong blast and the mountain is going to cave in around our ears."

It's a good thing Tainer isn't around to hear that, Wedge mused.

"It's time to come up with a plan," Face said.

Corran raised an eyebrow, "You don't have something already cooked up for us?"

"Seeing as how our timetable just got shortened to less than two weeks," Face replied, "no, we don't have a plan."

"We could ask them real nice like if they'd give us the Phantoms," Wes added. Another volley of objects was thrown at him.

"Obviously," Myn said, "We can't barge in there with blasters blazing. Nor can we ask them. We need a distraction."

"Who's the slicer in this group?" Face asked.

Darvix, who was sitting in the back of the room, sheepishly raised a hand.

Face nodded towards Darvix, "You're going to need to slice in to the facility's main system and set off an alarm of some sort. Since the area we're trying to get in to is the hanger, I suggest you try a coolant leak warning."

Gavin spoke up, "If a few of us were in the hanger at the time, disguised as technicians, we could help stir up the chaos when the alarm goes off."

"Good idea," Face said, "I'll see what I can do about getting some uniforms. As soon as the alarm goes off, we need a second slicer to get to the terminal in the back of the hanger-"

"Not going to work," Tycho said, "Cracken didn't send a slicer in the commando team behind us."

Wedge saw the frown form on Loran's face. "He didn't bother to send another slicer? All we've got is this kid? Has he even touched an Impnet computer?"

Darvix frowned, "Hey I've sliced into plenty of systems!"

"Nothing against you, kid," Face said, "but if you screw up, we'll be either dead, or wishing we were dead."

The young pilot folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.

"We're going to have to send a small team with him, then," Face continued. "Three of you will provide cover for him as he gets to this room…" another room was highlighted in red, "where he can slice in to the system. After the alarm is triggered, he is to be escorted to the hanger, where he'll slice in to the hanger controls and open up the doors for the stolen starfighters to escape."

"Why can't he do both from the same terminal?" Hobbie asked.

"The hanger terminal is completely independent of the rest of the network. If we could, we would. The rest of you are to be stationed at various points around the hanger. There's places to conceal yourself, but we're going to have to piece that together later. Once the alarm goes off, we need to make a dash for the Phantoms. Those who aren't piloting are to place a small explosive charge on the fighters we don't steal. We'll make sure its small enough to –not- kill us all."

"And how are those of us who aren't stealing ships going to get out."

"I, uh," Face stuttered, "Oh sithspit…"

"The Skate," Wedge said. "If we time this right, the Skate can meet us at the open hanger doors and get us out of there and immediately off planet."

"Force, no!" Corran protested, "She's already in enough trouble as is!"

"We don't have another option, Corran," Inyri replied.

Corran sighed and remained silent, conceding defeat.

"We'll be placing three of Cracken's commandos with every group of Rogues for support," Face said. "That's it for now. Zorvan, I suggest you get a terminal and brush up on your slicing skills. Dinner's at 1800."

The Rogues began filtering out of the briefing room. Wedge spotted Iella up front, conferring with Face…He probably should talk to her. Tense feelings would only make the mission that much harder. After a few moments, she moved away from Face and made her way towards the exit.

"Iella," Wedge said, trying to get her attention.

"Yes, Wedge?" she replied, looking far more tired than she ever had before.

"Listen we need to-"

"Talk?" She signed. "What more can we really say about this? There's a gigantic Alliance conspiracy that's preventing us from ever having any kind of time together."

Wedge suddenly felt as if the weight of the entire Galaxy were on his shoulders. He heaved a heavy sigh, "We're getting too old for all of this, aren't we?"

Iella rubbed her temples, looking every bit as frustrated as her husband, "I thought we'd be living in a nice highrise apartment on Crosucant raising a child or two by now."

As the battle-worn Corellian pilot stared up at the ceiling he admitted that Iella was right. This wasn't where he pictured himself when they had gotten married several years earlier. Part of him wondered if he was ever going to get to retire.

* * *

Darvix Zorvan made his way out the room where his training terminal was. His cybernetic eyes were quickly scanning over the datapad in his hand, trying to soak up as much information as he could. Impnet computers would be tricky, but he knew he could handle them.

He turned into another corridor when he suddenly bumped into something hard, sending him falling and his datapad flying.

"Ouch..!" came a female voice.

Smooth one, Zorvan, he said to himself.

Darvix shook his head and got on his feet, offering his hand to the woman he had ran into. She took it, and slowly stood up. He looked down at the shorter figure, shocked to see none other than Cheriss ke Hanadi. He could tell instantly that she was as surprised as he was. For what seemed like an eternity, the two of them stared at each other, a blush rising to their cheeks.

"I uh," Darvix said, stumbling through his words, "Sorry about bumping in to you… Didn't see you coming."

"No, no," Cheriss said, still blushing furiously, "Don't worry about it, Dap."

His heart skipped a beat. Had she really called him Dap? She had never used his nickname before. More often than not she would simply address him by his last name…or just call him a name.

"You're, ah, still holding my hand, Dap," she said.

He quickly dropped it, the blush in his cheeks becoming even redder "Sorry, Cheriss, I…"

She shook her head and smiled a breathtaking smile. Darvix could feel his head cloud up.

"I, uh, never got to thank you for helping to keep me stable on the Skate," he said.

"It was no problem…" she muttered quietly. She looked up at him, into his cybernetic eyes. Sithspit! Darvix said, When did her lips get that close to me?

"It really does mean a lot to me," he replied quietly. The gap between them was closing quickly.

"You would have done the same for me or any other pilot," she said.

Darvix's heart was racing a mile a minute. He couldn't even think clearly. At the moment, all that mattered was that Cheriss, a beautiful young lady, was in front of him. His mind couldn't seem to reconnect her to the image of an overly critical judge of his character.

Her eyes closed, and he leaned in further…

"Will you two stop smooching and come to dinner?" Wes said from behind them.

The two young pilots suddenly stood upright. Wes Janson and Inyri Forge had appeared behind them while they were busy with their own thoughts.

"Like I would want to kiss him," Cheriss said, walking off

Darvix sneered, "And who the kriff would want to even –think- about kissing you?"

Darvix stormed off, leaving Wes and Inyri in the corridor. Inyri looked over at Wes, and promptly hit him upside the head.

"What was that for?" He asked.

"Mood-killer," Inyri replied.


	16. Denial of the Force

Chapter Fifteen

The Imperial Star Destroyer known as the Ender slowly lumbered into orbit around Telos. The Phantoms would be finished soon, and the moment they were ready to fly, the Ender would pick them up and quickly rejoin with the rest of the Imperial fleet. Once the new starfighers were ready, the campaign against the Rebels would begin.

Lieutenant Prevel sat in the commander's seat on board the bridge of the Ender. Captain Naolin had left the Star Destroyer under his command while he was on Telos with Moff Celia, and Prevel was making the most of his time as commanding officer. He had already been contemplating changes in procedure that he knew Naolin would approve of. I'll be commanding a Star Destroyer one day, Prevel said to himself, maybe even this one.

"Incoming communication, Lieutenant," came the voice of one of the young ensigns below him.

Prevel nodded and stood up, "Route it through the main display."

The image of Captain Naolin flashed to life on the monitor in front of Prevel. The Captain looked exhausted, causing Prevel to wonder idly if things were still going smoothly on the Telosian surface. Moff Celia was probably running him into the ground with demands.

"Lieutenant Prevel," Naolin said, "I appreciate you responding so quickly. I trust everything on board the Ender is running smoothly."

"Yes, sir," Prevel said, standing a bit straighter.

"You intercepted a Rebel task force two days ago at a Customs checkpoint," Naolin said. "Any details to add?"

Prevel smiled proudly, "The task force was on their way here. We boarded them and conducted the interrogations, discovering that they were on their way to steal the Phantom Fighters. By the time the Rebels find out, it will be far too late to send another force to stop us."

"I would congratulate you," Naolin said, "but there's the fact that you failed to stop an earlier task force, which is somewhere on Telos right now."

"An earlier task force?" Prevel asked. "Impossible, the Ender was at that Customs checkpoint. If there was another Rebel force, we would have found them."

"You would have," Naolin said, "if you hadn't been too busy attacking freighters smuggling aliens. I do not appreciate you ordering our forces to waste their resources on trivial matters such as that."

Prevel could only stare at the monitor slackjawed. He was sure that Naolin would compliment him for stopping a group of aliens trying to smuggle themselves into the New Republic. Still, there was no way he could have missed a Rebel force.

"With all due respect," Prevel said. "There was no way we could have spotted them, even if there was a Rebel task force there."

"Had you not hurried Customs, they could have run a more careful check on the documents that a freighter and her Y-Wing escorts sent. One of the pilots is wanted for treason on one of Moff Celia's worlds, and a quick image match would have confirmed it. To say you've been sloppy is an understatement."

Lieutenant Prevel could not believe what he was hearing. Had he really let a Rebel task force slip past him and get on Telos? If he did, than the Phantom project was in grave danger.

"Prepare for the Phantoms to arrive any time during the next two weeks. As soon as they are flight-ready, we're placing them on the Ender to finish work. Thanks to you, our time table is even shorter."

"Yes sir," Prevel muttered.

"Consider yourself demoted. Get off my bridge, Ensign."

So much for commanding a Star Destroyer now.

***

"Corran Horn's a what!?" Darvix asked Inyri, stunned.

"A Jedi Knight," she said in between sips of her caf. "What, couldn't hear me the first time?"

"No I heard you," Darvix said, "I just was wondering if you've gone crazy. Aren't Jedi supposed to be, I don't know…Robe clad, philosophy spouting, and champions of truth and justice?"

"Well, that's sure the stereotype, isn't it?"

Darvix chuckled a bit, "Somehow I can't picture Corran in a Jedi robe, rambling on about the so called Force."

"You don't believe in the Force?" Inyri asked.

Darvix shook his head, "If there was some all powerful Force watching over us, there wouldn't be so many bad things in the universe. No world where a government can get away with starving the people living under them…There'd be no reason for us to get behind the flightstick, having to shoot down husbands and fathers. If there was a Force, there wouldn't have been an Empire."

He let out a soft, sarcastic laugh, "No, there isn't a Force…It's just a myth that people tell their children to shield them from the horrors of the galaxy."

A new body at down at the table across from Darvix, "Even the Force can't stop all the atrocities that occur in the Galaxy."

Darvix looked up at Corran Horn. He refused to believe that the Rogue veteran was part of that religious cult. Horn was nothing like them; too vocal, too boisterous.

"Yes, I am a Jedi," Corran said. He could detect the confusion in Darvix. Somewhere in the past he had developed a prejudice against the Jedi, and he simply couldn't see Corran fitting in to that mold. To Darvix, no good could ever come from the Jedi.

"The Force works in strange and mysterious ways," Corran said. "I wish that the Galaxy wasn't in such turmoil…but that's why the Jedi Knights are here, that's why I'm a Jedi…To try and fix what's wrong."

"It was a single Jedi Knight who brought Palpatine into power," Darvix said. "Sure helped fix things, didn't he?"

Corran wasn't sure exactly what was the reason behind Darvix's feelings towards the Jedi. It was clear that he didn't dislike the Jedi, he hated them with all his being. What could he say to convince him otherwise?

"The Force can be manipulated to do evil things," Corran said. "Darth Vader proved that. Still, it was him who helped to bring about the end of Emperor Palpatine."

"There is no Force, Corran," Darvix said. "Just evil men and women, and those who think that they can single handedly change the universe with their powerful 'Force.'"

"Darvix-"

"If you'll excuse me," Darvix said, "I need to get back to my terminal."

Darvix stood with is mug of caf. He smiled tightly at Inyri and Corran and turned on his heels, walking out of the breakroom and heading into the hallway. Corran could do nothing but shake his head. Whatever had happened to Darvix as a child had changed him, and not for the better. Corran's appreciation for his father and grandfather grew. They had been the ones who told him to listen to his gut feelings, quietly telling him that he was Force sensitive. He couldn't imagine what Darvix had been told as a child to build this hatred of Jedi, but Corran was glad that he wasn't the one who had to grow up with it.

"You could have shown him one of your tricks," Inyri said. "That would have shut him up fast."

Corran shook his head, "No, that wouldn't have been the right thing to do…He'll learn the Force is real soon enough. Provided we get through this death trap alive."


	17. Break In

Chapter Sixteen

"Sithspit!" Face cursed loudly. "This is bad, Iella, very bad."

Iella Wessiri stepped away from her desk and moved towards Face, leaning over his shoulder and reading the information on his terminal. Her eyes scanned over the newly decrypted text, fresh from Airen Cracken's Intelligence staff on Coruscaunt. Something was very wrong if he was contacting them in the middle of the mission.

She swore aloud. The commando convoy that was supposed to be arriving on Telos had been boarded at a customs checkpoint. From the sounds of it, their forged documents hadn't held up. Someone with Intelligence had been doing very sloppy work, and now fifteen New Republic soldiers had been captured by the Empire.

"Should we break camp?" Face asked.

Iella nodded. "Security's been compromised. We've got to get to the production facility as soon as possible.

Face's terminal began to let out a soft, electronic chirpring. He quickly entered a few commands to bring up a security video feed. An image of two stormtroopers flashed to life.

"Jam their comlinks!" Iella shouted. "And get on the intercom and tell the Rogues to get the hell out of here!"

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

"Whoever that is," Darvix mumbled, "you have five seconds to leave before I slice in to the assignment roster and put you on kitchen duty."

"Will you shut up and get up!?" A decidedly female voice asked.

Darvix sat up and shook his head, trying to unfog his sleep deprived mind. "Cheriss, even if you wanted to get in to bed with me, I don't know if now is quite the appropriate time."

She glared at him, looking as if she wanted to inflict a great deal of bodily harm upon him. "Get changed and grab your blaster, we have to get out of here. Someone blew our cover, and we've got company."

He was out of bed and scrambling into his clothes as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Darvix quickly opened the footlocker at the bottom of his bed and threw his flightsuit and helmet into a backpack. He grabbed his holdout blaster and a sheathed blade, strapping it to his back and looking back to Cheriss.

"Come on," he said, grabbing her wrist and hurrying out of his quarters. The moment he stepped past the door, blaster fire raced past his head. He arched back, throwing his arm out to keep Cheriss behind him.

"Sithspit!" he cursed aloud. Darvix reached to the holster strapped to his left arm and pulled out his holdout blaster. Leaning around the door again, he fired a pair of quick shots. He knew that if he hit anyone, it was going to be sheer luck. Darvix was a lousy shot with a blaster even in ideal conditions.

Cheriss pushed past Darvix, a silver orb in her hand. She pushed down on a switch and threw it down the hall. She looked away just as a bright flash lit up the hallway. Before Darvix knew what happened, she had grabbed his arm and was pulling him in the opposite direction.

"What the kriff was that!?" Darvix demanded.

"Flash grenade," she replied. "Always keep one handy."

The blaster fire had returned. Darvix ducked under a few red bolts fired from the stormtroopers quickly pursuing them. The two of them turned a corner, only to run into a closed blastdoor. Darvix keyed the exit command, only to find that it wouldn't work.

"Damnit!" he yelled. "They must have gotten control of the station's security."

"Now what?" Cheriss asked.

Darvix tossed her his holdout blaster and ripped open a panel beside the door. "Hold them off and pray for a miracle."

He began to tear into the wiring behind the panel. Darvix could hear Cheriss firing wildly behind him, trying to hold off who knows how many stormtroopers. At times, he swore that he could feel the heat of the blaster fire behind his neck.

"When I get this door opened up," he said as he pulled another wire, "fire at those vents overhead. If I'm right, you should set off a nice little explosion."

"What if someone's still in here?" She asked

He gritted his teeth for a moment. "If anyone was behind us, those stormtroopers would have killed them by now. They're incredibly thorough."

She quietly nodded her response and let loose with another volley of fire. Darvix crossed another set of wires, and the door hissed. The magnetic locks released, and now he could open the door by hand. Grabbing hold of the metal door, he pushed as hard as he could, allowing the door to open just wide enough for them to fit through.

"Now!" he yelled at Cheriss. He heard her blaster fire as he pulled her through the door. Almost at the same moment, he heard a wail of pain come from Cheriss, followed by a loud blast as the door slid shut once more. The building shook around them as the corridor behind them ignited, no doubt killing anyone that was in there.

He looked down at Cheriss and was shocked to see her clutching her thigh. Blood was trickling out from under her hands, she had been shot as they were pulling out.

"Cheriss!" he gasped.

She shook her head, "Get going you fool, I'm just going to slow you down."

Darvix rolled his eyes and knelt down, picking her up in his arms. "Stop being stubborn for once, please?"

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it just as quickly. Cheriss let out a soft sigh and closed her eyes, wincing from the pain in her leg. The young woman placed an arm around his neck and drew herself closer to him.

***

* * *

"Anybody see them?" Wedge asked.

Most of the Rogues, as well as Iella and Face, had gotten out of the compound. The stormtroopers had shown up out of nowhere. The sensors placed around the base hadn't picked them up until it was far too late, and it may have cost two of his pilots their lives. Darvix Zorvan and Cheriss ke Hanadi hadn't come out with the rest of the Rogues, and Wedge was beginning to fear the worst.

An explosion had rocked the area a few minutes earlier. He knew that his pilots were probably in the middle of it, and that they wouldn't be joining the rest of them. Someone in Intelligence had made a costly error, and two young pilots had apparently paid the price.

"Got something," Myn said, looking through his macrobinoculars.

Wedge kneeled beside Donos, peering into the distance. Smoke was billowing out of the main compound now, but he could make out the faint outline of something moving away from it. Myn handed Wedge the macrobinoculars, and he placed them to his eyes.

He saw the outline of a man holding another person. Wedge felt a lump rise to his throat.

***

* * *

Darvix reached the woods, where he was immediately mobbed by Tycho Celchu and Corran Horn. Gently, he set Cheriss down on the cold forest floor, motioning for the other two men to step back. Darvix placed a hand into his backpack and produced a small first aid kit.

"Are you alright?" he calmly asked Cheriss.

She managed a laugh before wincing again in pain, "Wonderful, you should try getting shot sometime."

He smiled in return and opened the first aid kit, pulling out a few bacta strips. Setting those to the side, Darvix pulled a small blade from his belt and carefully began to cut away the blood soaked fabric on her leg

"No, I'm not trying to get into your pants," he remarked. "Still not a very appropriate time."

"Darvix!" she said in mock disgust.

He picked up a bacta strip and looked at her. "This is going to sting a bit, I'll be quick…" He quickly, but carefully applied the bacta soaked bandage onto the wound. He could a sharp intake of air from her.

"Sorry…" he muttered as he continued to tend to her wound. The blast looked like it had grazed her skin, but he knew it was still incredibly painful. He thanked the stars that she wasn't hurt worse…

A few moments later, he had finished with the bandages and helped her on to her feet. Cheriss leaned against him for support as they made their way towards the rest of the Rogues. A few of them helped to get her on to a nearby speeder while Wedge spoke with Darvix.

"Did everyone get out?" Darvix asked, worry apparent in his eyes.

Wedge nodded, "You were the last two. We don't know why the intercom didn't go off in your room, but when we got out here and you weren't with us, Cheriss ran back to get you before we could stop her.

Darvix felt his heart skip a beat. Had she really risked her life just to save him? He looked towards the speeder where she rested, a soft smiling forming on his lips.

"That's two I owe her…" he said quietly.


	18. Roast

Chapter Seventeen

Cheriss ke Hanadi was asleep in the back of the speeder. The painkillers that Tycho had given her were strong, and almost immediately put her out like a light. Darvix couldn't help but feel guilty; she had gone back to save him from a battalion of stormtroopers. He felt as if it was his own fault that she had been wounded during their escape.

"You know," Darvix said, "she's the last person who I thought would come get me."

"You sell her short," Wedge said from behind him. "I know she comes off as a harsh person…but she really is a good girl."

Darvix couldn't help but smile. He noticed on several occasions that Wedge was rather protective of Cheriss, as if she were his own daughter. They rode on in silence for a while more, before Darvix finally spoke up

"Forgive me for asking, sir," Darvix said, "but…is she here purely for political reasons."

Wedge smiled for a moment. "Initially, yes. Relations between the Republic and portions of Adumar weren't very good. As a sort of peace offering, command decided that they would place an Adumari pilot into Rogue Squadron. Of course, they did all of this without consulting me.

"The first Adumari pilot to get through the Academy was Cheriss, and command decided she was the perfect person to add to our roster. She was a duelist champion on her homeworld, and was viewed as a hero by helping to lead a rebellion against her own country…She'd always wanted to be a pilot. Adumar is home to many snubfighter pilots, most of them are worshipped there."

"Why did she take up dueling instead of piloting?" Darvix asked, "Initially, anyways."

"Couldn't deal with heights," Wedge replied. "For years, she had vertigo and didn't know it, not that Adumari medicine could have helped her at the time… In any case, she was placed into Rogue Squadron shortly after graduating. Turned out to be one of the few green pilots that could make it with us, very gifted with the flightstick."

It occurred to Darvix that he had never seen Cheriss fly. He had always assumed that she was just an average pilot, the likes of which probably didn't belong in Rogue Squadron. If anyone knew that the worth of a pilot shouldn't be judged quickly, it was Darvix. He felt guilty for making such an assumption.

"She seems overly headstrong," Darvix said. "Stubborn… Can't be good in the cockpit."

Wedge nodded, "She is, but she's still a terrific pilot…and in fairness, what she says about you has some truth to it. You do tend to spend a lot of time thinking in the cockpit, trying to assess your situation. That's fine and good, but you need to work quickly. There's a fine balance point, but I'm sure you can find it…the same goes for Cheriss, as well. Food for thought, Dap."

Darvix leaned back in to his seat. The young pilot greatly respected Wedge, and the advice the General give may as well have been divine revelation. Anyone who could survive two Death Star runs, overthrowing numerous planetary governments, and who knows what other heroic deeds, knew what they were talking about. Darvix idly wondered if Wedge had this conversation in the past with another superior officer. It was hard to picture the veteran pilot ever having been a rookie.

Could I ever do the things Wedge has done? Darvix asked himself. In the short time that they had known eachother, Darvix already found himself looking up to Wedge as a sort of father figure. Darvix's own father had hardly been a good influence. Both of his parents blindly followed the Empire, not questioning a single action the government took. In the end, it was that misplaced faith that forced him to leave his family behind and start a new life.

The young pilot looked back at Cheriss, still asleep with that peaceful look upon her face. It dawned on him then that he really didn't know his fellow pilots. In this short time, he had learned a great deal about Cheriss, causing his respect for her to grow. He would make it a point to become familiar with the rest of the Rogues. They were his family now.

***

* * *

The Rogues had reassembled in a remote spot in the middle of a forest thirty kliks south of the Imperial production facility. Morale in the squadron was low, being run out of your safehouse and having one of your friends shot up had that effect on people. For the time being, everyone was as dour as Hobbie. Even Wes had a look of concern on his face. Wedge knew that he had to do something to raise the spirits of his pilots.

Unfortunately, that was Wes's department, and Janson wasn't being overly responsive. The Rogues were huddled inside a cave, trying to keep warm around the small fire they had built up to heat their rations. The Telosian nights had a tendancy to get cold, of course, this was nothing compared to Hoth. Wedge had almost wished they'd chosen a planet like Tatooine instead.

Wait, Wedge said to himself. Wes. Of course!

Wedge stepped in to the cave and took a seat, scanning over the glum looking pilots. He wasn't sure if a word had been exchanged since they arrived, but that was about to change.

"Gather round the campfire, kiddies," Wedge said. "Story time."

A few groans were let out. The younger pilots were expecting another 'when I was your age' tales that often came out of superior officers.

"Calm down," Wedge said. "No, this is group story time, but we've got some rules. One, they have to be about our Man of the Hour…Major Wes Janson, and two, they must be either material that is deemed hilarious, or blackmail. Let the roast of Major Janson begin."

Wicked and evil grins began emerging on the faces of each Rogue, every pilot most likely having their own Wes Janson story to tell. As for Wes, all that could describe his facial expression was a bantha caught in the headlights of an oncoming speeder.

"As Wes's long time friend and counterpart in squadron pranking," Hobbie said, "I feel it is my duty to begin this heartfelt roast of Wes. Let me tell you of a little scene back on Hoth, where I first met Wes."

Wes let out a groan. He knew exactly what story Hobbie was about to tell.

"At the time, Wes was seeing a lovely intelligence officer who had her own quarters. We're pretty sure the only reason she was seeing him was because he had blackmail on her. In any case, one night, the two of them had one too many mugs of Lomin Ale, and had gone back to her quarters. Thirty minutes later, I step out of the bar, and see Wes Janson, dressed in nothing but her lingerie, prancing about the ice caverns of Hoth Base. The kicker is that just down the hall, he bumped in to General Reiken. The good General laughed so hard, he gave himself a hernia."

Across the cave, Inyri Forge spit out her hot caf and was laughing hysterically. "Remind me never to let him near my dresser."

Wedge couldn't remember the last time Wes had blushed this much. It was good the Rogues finally had something to laugh about…but it was probably better that Wes was finally getting ribbed by his fellow pilots.

Darvix spoke up next, "Ah, Major Janson, I trust you remember the infamous lampshade incident back at the Academy."

"Say it, and you die, Dap."

"A risk I'm willing to take," Darvix replied. "In any case, during my last few weeks at the Academy, we were visited by none other than Councilor Borsk Fey'lya. The Upperclassmen and Academy staff were invited to join Fey'lya in a dinner ceremony. In the middle of this, Wes stumbles in to the dining hall, completely drunk and wearing a lampshade on his head with two cutouts for eye holes. He shoves Fey'lya aside and says to everyone in the room 'Borsky…I just wancha to know that 'yer alright, even if ye nearly obliterated our fleet during the Thrawn crisis.'

"Fey'lya tried to get Wes imprisoned under charges of deformation of character, but we were laughing to hard to listen to him."

Laughs came from nearly every Rogue, even Hobbie looked as if he were enjoying himself now.

Wedge held his hand up. "My turn. Many of you will remember that during our stay on the Mon Remonda during the campaign against Warlord Zsinj, I told Wes that he had earned my greatest form of revenge. It's a shame most of you weren't there when I finally pulled the trigger. With the help of a few Wraiths, I lured Wes into one of the hangers and pulled off the illusion that we had an Ewok loose on board. I convinced Wes that the only way to get a hold of the Ewok was to strip out of all his clothes, and cover himself in foodstuffs. No surprise to us all, Wes did so. We then got the good Major to run into the briefing room, stark naked, and covered in goo. Of course, nearly every Wraith was in there… and thus the infamous line, 'Nice rear, lieutenant' was born."

"The moral of the story," Darvix said, "Is to never prank General Antilles. But of course, that won't stop any of us, will it?"

"Hasn't stopped me," Wes replied. "Yet."


	19. The Eyes of the Blind

Chapter Eighteen

Captain Naolin stood before Moff Celia. Naolin felt that he should be accustomed to the encounters as he had been through with the Moff, given how often they occurred. Yet, like every other time, Naolin felt pangs of fear running through him. So much hinged on Moff Celia's approval, his career being one of them. If the Phantom project were to fail, he would find himself on an aging dreadnaught dealing with trivial objectives and orders in a hurry.

Naolin gulped and tried to regain his composure. "A stormtrooper detachment encountered the Rebel task force in the Onasi forest area. Contact was lost, and a follow-up team was sent. The stormtroopers were killed, and there were no signs of Rebel bodies…we can only assume that they escaped."

Moff Celia frowned. "How could an outnumbered Rebel task force eliminate an entire stormtrooper detachment?"

"The follow-up concluded that they were instantly killed by a stray laser blast into a shaft transporting coolant. It ignited and instantly killed the stormtroopers."

The aging Moff rested his elbows on the desk infront of him, his fingers interlocked and resting just below his lips. "To say I'm disappointed would be an understatement, Captain. It was of extreme importance that you take out that task force, and now we don't know where they are."

"Sir," Naolin said with a sigh, "It's Rogue Squadron."

Captain Naolin could see the anger rising to Moff Celia's face. Not only was a Rebel task force loose on Telos, it was Rogue Squadron, a thorn in the side of the Empire for two decades. They had been responsible for the fall of Coruscaunt and the death of Ysanne Isard. The Rogues had also been key in the downfall of Warlord Zsinj, as well as playing a pivotal role in the end of Grand Admiral Thrawn, who Naolin had served under. Every time the Empire was close to reformation, there were the Rogues, to put an end to it.

"I want those starfighters on board the Ender by week's end," Celia said, flatly.

"But, sir!" Naolin replied, "Three of the starfighters aren't even flight ready! It will be at least five more days until its safe to move them!"

"Then you had better step up your workforce."

"Very well," Naolin said. "We'll rig those three with self destruct devices, should the Rebels get a hold of them-"

"No!" Celia countered. "I have poured a good deal of my resources into this little project of yours. The Rebels won't get a hold of them, and you will not rig them to self destruct. Is that understood, Captain?"

Captain Naolin nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

Captain Naolin turned and walked out of Moff Celia's chambers. Those Rebels would be the death of him…

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan woke up with a start. He had that dream again, and once more, he had pulled the trigger. He rubbed his eyes with his right hand, as his left slowly clenched and unclenched. The flashbacks to his childhood on Nar Shadaa had become more frequent since the flight to Telos. Seeing that freighter get vaped had triggered something in Darvix's mind. In one instant, all the suppressed sadness and guilt he kept pent inside him burst to the surface.

It scared him to think that he had done such a horrible thing. He had ended a young girl's life without a second thought, and he couldn't remove that blood from his hands, no matter how hard he tried. What frightened him to no end was the fact that he had –enjoyed- killing her. The moment it had happened, and with every subsequent dream, he reveled in killing the young Twi'lek girl.

He shook his head and sat up. There wasn't going to be much sleep for him tonight, his mind couldn't calm down. Grabbing his pants, he stood up, sliding into them. Darvix couldn't help but shiver at the cold Telosian night. The young pilot picked up his heavy, brown jacket and slid it over his frame, walking out of the cave and taking a seat on an aging stump.

Darvix lost track of how long he had been out there, looking up at the small clearing in the trees and into the star-lit night. He was woken by his thoughts by the touch of a feminine hand on his shoulder.

"Isn't it a little late, Darvix?" Cheriss asked, taking a seat beside him.

Dap smiled faintly, "Can't sleep, thought I might as well do some stargazing... How's your leg?"

Cheriss nodded, leaning against Darvix's arm a bit. "Better, still a bit sore. I've had worse."

Darvix smiled at that. Cheriss was a tough woman, and he knew it would take more than a blaster wound to hold her back.

"I used to look up into the night sky as a child," she mused. "It had always been my dream to fly in the wake of angels." Cheriss shook her head, looking up into the night sky with Darvix.

"You shouldn't have gone in after me," Darvix said, after a few minutes of silence. "You could have gotten yourself killed…"

"You would have done the same for me, Darvix."

Darvix looked at the ground for a moment, before sliding off the stump and settling next to Cheriss. In the short time that he had been there, the Rogues had become the family that he never had growing up. He would have done exactly what Cheriss did.

"It still was incredibly stupid," he said.

Cheriss smiled, looking over at Darvix, "You're one to talk."

"You wound me, Cheriss," Darvix said, feigning shock.

Cheriss laughed softly and leaned against Darvix once more, her head resting against his shoulder. He could feel the young woman shiver due to the cold night air. Darvix looked at her for a moment before sliding off his jacket and draping it over her frame, despite her protests.

"I'm used to these cold nights," he remarked. "Nar Shadaa was always chilly, regardless of what time it was."

He looked up at the skies again to see a shooting star zip through the black of night. Darvix had never been able to stargaze at home, the light pollution constantly drowned out the faint stars. It wasn't until he was looking out the viewport of his stolen X-Wing did he see the beauty of the Galaxy. He considered that moment to be an awakening for him, Darvix knew exactly what he needed to do with his life.

Cheriss looked up at Darvix, "I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but…what happened to your eyes?"

"I don't talk about it much," Darvix said, "But I suppose it's about time I did."

The young man looked forward into the forest for a moment before speaking again. "When I was twelve, I contracted a virus through the water supply. It attacked my nervous system, and nearly killed me. The doctors managed to put me into a comatose state so they could treat me.

"This was during the height of the Krytos scare, so Imperial moffs and warlords were stockpiling Bacta. Needless to say, it was unavailable to me. The doctors had to use aging antibiotics to treat me, but by the time they had gotten a hold of the medicine, my optical nerves were a lost cause. To prevent the spread and to increase effectiveness of the medication, they…had to remove my eyes.

"I woke up two months later in a hospital wing not far from my home. The doctor removing the bandages from my eyes apologized, telling me that I had lost my vision. A few weeks later I was given these cybernetic implants…It restored partial vision, but at long distances I'm as blind as a Mynock. If it weren't for my X-Wing's targeting computer, I wouldn't be able to fly."

Cheriss nodded slowly, "I'm sorry, Darvix."

"Don't be," Darvix replied. "I'm just glad I'm alive."

He looked over at Cheriss for a moment, smiling warmly before gazing back up at the stars. "One day, we'll be able to explore the galaxy again, without having to fear war… No need for our starfighters, no more Empire."

"One day, we'll find peace," Cheriss said. "I hope we're still around to see it."


	20. Final Preparations

**Chapter Nineteen – Final Preparations**

Mirax Terrik-Horn grumbled to herself as she sat down at a table. These small spaceports always seemed to have its share of shady figures, most of which found Mirax to be an appealing target. A few bloodied faces later, she had finally cleared out a spot to sit down and enjoy her Lomin ale. She took a sip and winced. Poorly synthesized Lomin ale.

A stranger sat down across from her, causing Mirax to groan inwardly. Another spacer to try and lure her into his room for the night, no doubt.

"Not interested," She said flatly.

The stranger smirked and shook his head. "Lovely day for roasting a Gungan, isn't it?"

Mirax rolled her eyes. "I think fried Gizka is more appropriate."

Whoever thought up these code phrases should be shot up on the spot, or reassigned to Starfighter command.

"Face, I'm presuming?" Mirax asked.

Face Loran nodded and scanned around the room. It seemed to be the usual spacer riff-raff, so he felt relatively safe to hold a conversation with Mirax at the present location.

"What happened?" Mirax asked sternly. Face wouldn't have come to talk to her unless plans had changed, or something terrible had happened to the Rogues. She desperately hoped that it was the former.

Face let out a breath as he looked up at Mirax. "We got ambushed at the safehouse."

A look of sheer horror crept on to Mirax's face.

"Stormtrooper detachment stumbled in to our camp two days ago. Save a shot up leg, everyone's alright…One of Wedge's younger pilots managed to silence them in a hurry."

Face slid a datapad discreetly across the table and into Mirax's hand. "What's worse, is we've lost the commando team the Republic was sending us. The Rogue's are going into the facility alone…we're going to need your help to make this work."

Mirax frowned, "What do you need me to do?"

"We need you to bail us out of the facility itself. On the datapad is the coded signal we'll use to hail you. As soon as you get it, we need you to fly the Skate to the given coordinates and allow us to board. Soon as that's done, we'll be off-world and heading back to Coruscaunt."

"Wonderful," Mirax said. "All I have to do is fly my tub of a freighter into the facility, get everyone on board, and off the planet before getting vaped."

Face shook his head. "We're sending Gavin, Hobbie, and Myn back here. I've got a lead on a couple of R-41 Starchasers they can use to escort you out with."

Mirax nodded. It wasn't as if she had much of a choice, the Skate was the Rogue's only way off world. Might as well pick them up as soon as possible. She felt a bit more comfortable knowing that a few of Wedge's pilots would be escorting her back to Coruscaunt.

"Alright, Face," Mirax said. "I'll be waiting. Do try to keep them out of trouble, will you?"

"There's impossible," Face said. "And then there's truly impossible. You ask for a miracle, Mirax."

With a smile, Face stood and left the cantina.

* * *

Wedge scrolled through the mission parameters on his datapad one more time. He couldn't help but feel the plan was too complex, especially for a group of men and women that were not trained as military commandos. This was the sort of thing he had built Wraith Squadron for, but where were they now? Disbanded, scattered throughout the ranks of Starfighter Intelligence. And for what reason? Airen Cracken had decided that they were too cavalier, too unorthodox for their own good. In short, they were too much like the Rogues for Cracken's taste.

"You've got that look on your face again, dear," Iella said from behind him.

"What look?"

"The 'I really want to take someone's head off with a dull vibroblade' look."

He frowned slightly, "I get that way any time I think about your boss."

"General Cracken is very good at his job, you know," Iella said with a sigh. "He wouldn't have asked me to come out here if there were any other options."

"Was there really no one else he could have assigned? Sometimes it feels like you and Face are the only people employed by all of NRI."

Iella smiled faintly, "You know as well as anyone else that it's hard to find skilled military operatives. I can't imagine you're very happy about running out here with a greenhorn."

She had him there. When Starfighter Command transferred the young Nar Shaddaa native into his squadron he hadn't been pleased. He was a short step away from furious when he couldn't find anyone with more experience to replace him. Still, that little fact wasn't going to make him think rationally about this. It was his wife's well being that was at stake here, and that was a little too personal for his liking.

"We both knew the risks when we signed up for our respective careers," Iella said. "It's nothing short of a miracle that we still have a somewhat stable marriage, you know."

"I know, but-"

She cast him a stern look, "Wedge, we're going to make this work. You know that."

Wedge glanced over his shoulder and nodded. Of course he knew that. He loved Iella far too much to let some pesky career get in their way.

* * *

Wedge and Iella stepped out into the clearing where the rest of the Rogues were assembled. The mood among them seemed to have improved since they roasted Wes to a crisp. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made for morale, and Wes' fragile ego was no exception. Wedge had no doubt that Inyri would thank him later.

"Were you too having fun without us?" Wes asked.

Wedge and Iella blushed at the same moment, looking sheepishly at each other for a moment. Wes grinned at the two of them, causing Wedge to shoot him a glare that would have made the late Ysanne Isard cringe in fear.

"Time to cut the chatter, kids," Wedge said. "We need to go over logistics. Obviously, the Imps have caught on to us, so we need to steal those Phantoms pronto. Iella?"

Iella looked around at the Rogues for a moment before speaking up, "Since we've lost contact with the commando unit the Republic sent, we are going to have to act quickly. The last thing we want is to be in there when a Stormtrooper garrison shows up. Our goal is to get in, steal the fighters, and have the rest of us escape on the Skate. Hobbie, Gavin, and Myn are going to be flying escort for us in a few R-41 Starchasers that we…acquired."

"Stole outright?" Gavin asked.

"Yes," Iella replied. "I'll be taking the three of you to your fighters, and I'll join Mirax on the Skate. That leaves the rest of you providing cover for Mr. Zorvan in the facility itself. I've gotten a hold of a few technician uniforms, and a few of you will be placed in the hanger to stir up excitement once Dap signals the alarm. At that point, Corran, Inyri, and Cheriss will escort Dap to the hanger, where he'll perform the final slicing task.

"Now, if you look at your datapads, most of us will be entering the facility through the ventilation system at coordinate A-34. Face will take those of you in Imperial uniform through the maintenance entry at C-12. Once the signal is given, you have five minutes to get in to position.

"Face has rigged a smokebomb to go off in the first location where Dap needs to slice in to the terminal, so his team will be required to wear gas masks during this phase of the operation. This will take care of any pesky Imps that may want to put a few blaster bolts through your chests. After the terminal has been sliced, and an alarm set, it will be up to Face's task force to stir up trouble and encourage people to get out of the hanger.

A few of the Rogues nodded their understanding. "Dap's team will escort him to the hanger through the route detailed on your datapads. Provide cover for him until he's gotten the hanger doors open. At that point, steal the fighters, and the rest of us will get out on the Skate. We move out as soon as Face shows up. Our goal is to be at the Facility's entrances by 0800 standard in two days."

"I want everyone in flightsuits under their disguises," Wedge said. "We don't know who is going to be piloting those fighters out of there, and I want everyone available to fly. Understood? Good, dismissed."

* * *

In orbit above Telos rested the Star Destroyer Ender. It appeared as if all was going to be quiet, but suddenly, in the distance was three flickering, purple lights. Slowly, the figures moved towards the hanger of the Ender. The first five Phantom Fighters slowly eased their way into the Ender, and bringing them closer to their ultimate purpose: to put an end to the Rebels.


	21. 425

Chapter Twenty

Inyri handed Darvix the macrobinoculars she was looking through. Placing his eyes up to it, he began to scan the area they were supposed to enter. So far, their entrance looked clear. The Rogues had split in to two separate groups, one with Face to help create chaos in the hanger, and the other with Darvix. Provided nothing had gone awry in the last two days, both of the groups should be in place to make their entrance. Inyri, Corran, and Cheriss were providing him an escort and cover while he sliced into the Impnet terminal.

Corran Horn. Darvix had protested having Horn placed in his support group. Even though he was a Rogue, Jedi simply could not be trusted. Still, Wedge insisted that he needed to have that…cult member with him. If something were to go wrong, Darvix knew that Corran would be responsible for it. He would be keeping a close eye on the Jedi.

Darvix heard the click as Inyri inserted a fresh pack into her service hand blaster. He didn't even bother bringing one. In closed quarters combat, he wouldn't be able to tell whom he was shooting at. The last thing he wanted to do was blast one of his fellow Rogues by mistake.

"Time to get going," Inyri said quietly.

Darvix checked the Vibrosword strapped to his back one last time, ensuring that it was secured. Letting out a heavy breath, he stood and began his trek to the ventilation shaft that would allow them to enter the facility, and hopefully put an end to the Phantom project.

***

* * *

Wedge tugged at the shirt cuff of the technician's uniform that Face had provided him. Here I thought that our dress uniforms felt awful, he mused.

"Identification," A security guard at the durasteel door said bluntly.

Face ran his identification card through the scanner, an affirmative beep letting him know that he had cleared security. Wedge prayed that Face had managed to get their fake identification through the Impnet system. If not, they would be in serious trouble before the chronometer even began to count backwards.

With Wedge were Ace, Wes, and Tycho. Ooryl had been sent back to the Skate with the other Rogues to help Mirax with the sensor readouts. Wedge ran his datacard through the scanner and held his breath for what seemed like an eternity. The scanner gave the same affirmative beep, and he entered the production facility. Not far behind were Wes and Tycho, who made it through without incident.

Face dropped back and into step with Wedge, whispering quietly, "I've left a cache of hand blasters and power packs in a panel next to the hanger entrance. The security holocams should be playing a loop I programmed in a few weeks ago, so don't worry about tripping an alarm."

Wedge nodded and approached the durasteel door that would allow them access into the hanger. After a quick glance to ensure no one was walking towards them, he kneeled over a loose panel by the door and pried it open, pulling out a box. Wedge quickly opened it, and handed a holdout blaster and spare pack to each member with him. He replaced the panel and nodded to Face.

The door in front of them hissed open, and the Rogues stepped in. Wedge suddenly stopped dead in his tracks

"Oh, sithspit…" he murmured under his breath.

There were only two ships left in the hanger, the last remaining Phantom TIE, and an aging assault gunboat. They were too late.

***

* * *

Darvix glanced at his wrist chronometer. Another minute at the smokebomb would go off in the room where he would be accessing the Impnet terminal. He reached to his belt of his orange flightsuit and retrieved his gasmask, placing it over his face. Darvix placed his hand on the vent cover that would allow him to drop into the room.

He heard a loud bang, followed by a steady hiss. Sounds like the bomb went off, mimicking a steam leak from one of the nearby pipes. Technicians yelled at others to get out of the room. A few moments later, when Darvix was confident the room was empty, he opened the vent and let himself fall to the floor.

Moments later, Cheriss, Inyri, and Corran were at his side, watching the exits as he began to run his hands over the terminal. Things seemed to be going well, he had managed to access a few backdoors to access the Impnet. Now it was all down to him finding the right command line to trigger an alarm.

"What are you doing here!?" came a new voice from across the room.

Darvix blinked and looked over. An Imperial technician had just shown up, and was staring at the Republic flightsuit clad Rogues.

"Ah, just trying to lock down this steam leak, sir," Darvix said.

"Why the devil are you wearing that flightsuit?" the technician demanded.

Darvix looked to Cheriss for a moment, "Uh…Didn't you get the message, it's ah…costume day."

"I'm calling security," the technician said, turning on his heels…only to have a blaster bolt put into his back by Cheriss.

"Couldn't have done that sooner?" Darvix asked.

Cheriss shrugged, "It's fun to see you squirm."

He shook his head and returned his attention to the terminal. Suddenly, his hands stopped moving. Kriff, he said to himself.

"What is it, Dap?"

"…I can't remember the error code for a coolant leak."

The Rogues around him let out a groan. Suddenly blaster bolts erupted in the corridor outside of the room.

"Just choose anything!" Corran yelled.

Darvix ran his fingers over the terminal again and stepped back, unsheathing his vibroblade as the intercom in the facility went off.

"Warning, Code-425 in the production hanger, Code-425 in production hanger! Evacuate immediately!"

Inyri raised an eyebrow "What's Code-425?"

Darvix looked sheepishly at the other Rogues, "Well…"

***

* * *

Two Imperial stormtroopers stood outside of the production hanger. It didn't take long for boredom to set in during these guard shifts.

"Seen that new hologame from Anvisoft?" one of the stormtroopers asked.

"Sure did," the other replied. "Soon as I get some leave I'm going to pick up a copy."

The intercom blared to life, causing the stormtroopers to look up.

"Warning, Code-425 in the production hanger, Code-425 in the production hanger! Evacuate immediately!"

The first stormtrooper looked over at the other, "Code-425?"

The second stormtrooper picked up his datapad, cycling through information "Code-425…Let's see, tribe of Ewoks loose, armed with blunt weapons…"

They stared at each other in silence for a moment before the first one finally spoke up, "Kriff, let's get the hell out of here!"

With that, the stormtroopers burst into a run down the hall…and away from the hanger.

***

* * *

"Warning, Code-425 in the production hanger, Code-425 in the production hanger! Evacuate immediately!"

Wedge saw Face smack his forehead in disgust, causing Wedge to raise an eyebrow. "Code-425?"

"Tribe of Ewoks loose, armed with blunt weapons," he muttered.

Wes grinned, "Don't look at me, I didn't slice in to the terminal."

Wedge shook his head, glaring at Wes, "This is your doing, somehow, Janson. Well, we'd better make with the chaos now."

Tycho grabbed his blaster and fired a few shots randomly into the hanger, causing an instant panic among the technicians and guards present.

"Kriff!" Wes shouted, "They've got stone spears!"

Wes armed his own blaster and fired back behind a few crates. Soon enough, technicians and guards were making their way out of the hanger amidst the chaos.

"There's something to be said about preying on idiots," Wedge said.

***

* * *

Darvix slashed his vibrosword through an oncoming stormtrooper, causing him to fall to the ground instantly. Cheriss and Inyri were firing their blasters in the opposite direction, trying to hold back the stormtroopers coming after them.

"Loose Ewoks!?" Inyri said, flabbergasted.

Darvix cut through a security guard, causing red blood to splatter on to his flightsuit. "He said to choose anything!"

"By that," Corran said, flicking his lightsaber on, "I meant choose anything –feasible-! How the hell are Ewoks supposed to get on this planet anyways!?"

"I don't know!" Darvix said, "Maybe they flew themselves!"

Cheriss let loose with a few blaster shoots, leveling a stormtrooper rushing after them. "Ewoks can't fly, you nerf-herder!"

"Maybe if they had arm and leg extensions-"

"This line of thought ends now!" Corran snapped.

The four Rogues blasted and sliced their way towards the hanger, meeting up with the others. Darvix could see Tycho and Wes firing their blasters randomly, trying to stir up more chaos within the hanger. Who'd have thought a bunch of little fuzzballs could stir up this much chaos? Darvix asked himself.

"I'll credit you for your originality, Dap," Wedge said. "But you'll be doing mess hall duty for a month when we get home!"

"Yes, sir!" Darvix said as he ducked behind a few crates. "Next time I'll try loose Ewoks with speeder bikes."

"Will you cut the chatter and go slice that damn terminal!?" Wedge demanded.

"Yub-yub, Wedge," Darvix replied.

End chapter 20


	22. Escape

**Chapter 21 - Escape**

"All but one of the Phantom Fighters have been transferred to the Ender," Captain Naolin said to the holonet image of Moff Celia. "And my technicians have just informed me that the ion engines on the final Phantom are operational. As soon as our pilot arrives, we will make the transfer."

Moff Celia nodded, "Very good, Captain. How long until the squadron is operational?"

"Two weeks at most. By the time I return to the rest of the fleet, the Phantoms will be ready for their first deployment."

"I will take your word on that," Celia said. "As soon as the last fighter is on board the Ender, I want you to immediately make your way back to the fleet. I am placing Telos under a blockade so we can catch our Rebel spies."

"Yes, sir."

With that, the image of Moff Celia disappeared, leaving Naolin alone in his quarters. Against all odds, he had managed to get the Phantom Fighters off world before the Rebels could get their hands on them. Whats more, they would finally be able to catch Rogue Squadron. The blow that would deal to Rebel moral couldn't be measured.

A red indicator light came to life on his desk. Naolin keyed a button, "Yes?"

"Sir," came a voice over his comlink, "There is a Code-425 in the production hanger!"

Time seemed to stand still for Naolin. "Deploy the stormtrooper battalion immediately! Under no circumstances is the Phantom to be harmed!"

The news was a devastating blow. Their worst nightmare had been realized, a tribe of Ewoks was loose in the production facility. May the Force have mercy on them all.

* * *

Darvix broke into a sprint, heading towards the terminal in the rear of the hanger. As soon as he got there, he plugged his datapad into the terminal's input slot. He muttered quietly to himself as the datapad began to slice into the terminal in an attempt to give him access to the hanger doors. After what seemed like an eternity, the datapad gave an affirmative beep. He had gotten access.

It was then that all hell broke loose. Darvix felt the heat of blaster fire behind him, causing him to spin around. At the entrance opposite of the other Rogues, the outline of stormtroopers began to file in, blasters firing wildly. Caught in between the Rogues and the stormtroopers was Cheriss, who quickly ducked under a series of red bolts.

"Cheriss get over here!" Darvix yelled at the other pilot.

While on her knees she leveled her service blaster and poured a series of shots into the stormtroopers, quickly downing two of them. She got back on to her feet and ran towards the terminal where Darvix stood, letting loose with suppression fire.

"Looks like the welcoming party's here," she said.

Darvix winced as a few more bolts surged past him. "Did they bring dessert?"

Cheriss shot him a look before firing back at the stormtroopers, "I'd love to toss a thermal detonator in their general direction, but I'm afraid this place would fall in around our ears!"

"That would end this mission in a hurry," he replied.

Darvix swore to himself. The terminal was programmed to reconfigure the hanger's door codes every time the wrong entry was placed in to it. He could be guessing at possible combinations for hours before finally getting the doors and magcon fields down.

"There's only one Phantom left," Cheriss said as she replaced the power pack in her blaster. "As well as an Assault Gunboat."

"Looks like we got here a little too late then," he said. "I'll take the Gunboat."

Cheriss raised a brow as she fired back at the stormtroopers again, "Where did you learn how to fly a Gunboat?"

"Hotwired one on Tatooine," he replied. "Went for a joyride."

"Figures."

The young pilot gritted his teeth as his fingers quickly flew over the terminal, trying to search for some backdoor to access the hanger's security system. Face had been right to tell Darvix that Impnet terminals were no easy task. Nearly every trick he knew of was of no use to get those blasted doors open.

"Soon as those doors are opened," Cheriss said, "Fall back and help the rest of the Rogues lay down suppression fire for Tycho. Looks like he's going to make a run for the Phantom."

Darvix shook his head, "I'm taking that Gunboat. Whoever is piloting that TIE is going to need an escort out of here."

"What about our R-41 Starchasers?" Cheriss asked.

"No time, we've got to get that thing in hyperspace as soon as possible."

Swearing at himself, he abandoned his efforts to find a backdoor into the security and brought up the login screen again. The Imps were good, he couldn't find any possible way to get around this blasted login. Hope was fading quickly for him, unless he got incredibly lucky, the Rogues were as good as Bantha fodder.

Darvix's mind began to panic as that fact dawned on him. The lives of his friends were in his hands, and if he didn't succeed, he would be responsible for their deaths. More blood on his hands, the blood of people who didn't deserve to die. His breathing began to quicken as the anxiety level within him rose. Wedge, Wes, Tycho…All of them would die if he couldn't get these blasted doors open. He would never be able to tell Cheriss…

Cheriss. The galaxy had a tendency to be cruel to Darvix. He was still waiting for fate to give him a hand of Sabaac cards that he could do something with. Unless he got these doors open, he'd never be able to apologize to her for all the cruel things he had said, to thank her for saving his life, and to tell her-

For a moment, Darvix gasped for breath. His vision began to black out as he stared blankly at the terminal…

It felt as if he was outside of his body, but he still was staring at the blasted terminal. He saw a gloved hand rising to the terminal, slowly keying in a login and password. The hand wasn't his; Darvix couldn't even feel the terminal below his fingers. Everything seemed to run in slow motion as the login was entered, followed by the password. That was it; he knew how to open the door!

In a rush, his vision cleared and oxygen returned to his lungs. His hands, which had been clutching at the edge of the terminal rushed back to the surface of the interface. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he knew exactly how to get that hanger door open.

"Dap!" Cheriss yelled, "Focus in, I thought I lost you!"

"I'm okay," he replied.

His fingers began flying all over the display, entering in a login and password once more. He held his breath as he hit the send command. With a loud lurch, the hanger doors began to slide open.

"You did it!" Cheriss shouted.

Darvix grinned and retrieved his holdout blaster, firing at the stormtroopers held up behind a set of crates at the other end of the spacious hanger. "Time to lay down that fire for-"

Before he could finish, a loud explosion filled the hanger, and a support beam came crashing to the floor below, blocking the other Rogues path to the Imperial starfighters. Darvix had spoken too soon.


	23. The Call of Duty

**Chapter 22 – The Call of Duty**

Wedge ducked behind a service cart he had tipped over, avoiding the fire from the Stormtroopers that had just entered the large hanger. He really wasn't surprised that they had shown up, but it didn't stop the anger and frustration that came to him. They had been too late in stopping the transfer of most of the Phantom TIEs, and now they were pinned down and facing certain death.

Rising up slightly, he leveled his blaster and pulled the trigger twice. The red blasts surged into an armor-clad stormtrooper in the chest, causing him to fall back into his companions. Wedge caught a glance of Darvix, half way between the Rogues and the stormtroopers. Frustration was showing in the young pilot's face as he tried to slice open the hanger bay doors. He felt pangs of anger rising up inside him. Even if the commando team had made it, they wouldn't have brought with them a more experienced slicer. Despite the importance of this mission, Cracken apparently felt that it wasn't worth wasting his own resources on. Better to send a young, green pilot to his death than one of his own precious slicers.

"I don't get paid enough to do this!" Wes yelled from beside Wedge.

Wedge fired back at the oncoming Stormtroopers again. "That reminds me. When was the last time any of us got hazard pay?"

"We never get hazard pay!" Wes replied.

A loud hiss and whine filled the hanger. Wedge looked and saw that the doors were slowly sliding open, the kid had done it. Quickly, he signaled to Tycho, telling him to prepare to run to the Phantom. He was the logical choice, before defecting to the Rebel Alliance, Tycho had been a member of the Imperial Navy. His experience behind the controls of a TIE Fighter would be valuable in getting the Phantom back to Coruscaunt for examination.

Wedge stood up from behind the service cart once more and spotted a Stormtrooper raising up his blaster rifle. He quickly fired off a shot at the stormtrooper, hitting him square in the chest. As the wounded Stormtrooper fell back, a blast rang out from his blaster rifle, soaring towards the high hanger ceiling. Wedge's gut told him that something very, very bad was about to happen.

The stray bolt struck a transformer overhead, igniting a nearby coolant line. A loud whine of stressed metal echoed through the hanger as a pillar and support beams came crashing to the ground below.

"Everyone back!" Wedge yelled.

The Rogues responded quickly, moving away from their positions and towards the wall behind them. The metal hit the duracreet floor hard, causing the room around them to tremor violently. Wedge looked around, and saw that the fallen structuring had trapped them, preventing any of them from getting to the starfighters.

Wedge thumbed on his comlink "Dap, we're trapped here. Corran's going to cut us out, but we've got to get that Phantom out of here!"

"Acknowledged, boss," came Darvix's voice over the comlink. "I'm going to make a run for that Gunboat and give Cheriss some cover out of here. If we're lucky we'll get out of Telos in one piece."

"Go for it, Dap," Wedge said. "I –will- see you two back home, and that's an order."

"Read you loud and clear, Wedge," Darvix replied. "Eleven out."

Wedge tried to suppress the lump rising in his throat. He was asking his two youngest, most inexperienced pilots to do the most dangerous task of this mission. There was probably an Imperial convoy overhead Telos, waiting for that last Phantom. As soon as they caught wind of the fact the Rogues were in the process of stealing their prized toy, Darvix and Cheriss would be in a great deal of trouble. Wedge knew that they were both gifted pilots, but they were as good as space debris if they were to become outnumbered.

* * *

"Go for it, Dap," Wedge said. "I –will- see you two back home, and that's an order."

"Read you loud and clear, Wedge," Darvix replied. "Eleven out."

Darvix flicked off his comlink and looked at Cheriss. This was officially a deathtrap now. Being pinned down by a full Stormtrooper detachment was bad enough, but flying out of the hanger and forcing their way to a safe hyperspace jump was far, far worse. He shook his head and tried to refocus. All that mattered now was getting Cheriss to the Phantom and escorting her to safety.

"Looks like we're on our own," Darvix said to Cheriss, who was kneeling next to him. "We could sure use a bright idea or two right now."

Cheriss winced as red blaster fire flew over their heads. "We could ask real nice-like if they would let us pass by."

"You've been spending way too much time around Wes."

The only thing separating them from the Stormtroopers was the sheer amount of debris that had fallen to the floor. Darvix knew that wouldn't keep them away forever. Their only hope was to make a dash for the Imperial starfighters. If he could get to that Gunboat, it would be easy to take out those Stormtroopers and give the Rogues a clear path out.

Darvix holstered his blaster and looked to Cheriss, "I vote we make a mad dash for the Phantom, slicing and blasting our way through anything that gets in our way."

"Now we're talking!" she replied with a grin.

Darvix stood and unsheathed his vibrosword, powering on the small cell in the hilt that gave the blade its name. With one last look at Cheriss, he stood and jumped over the crates in front of him. He ran straight towards the two starfighters, ducking under blaster fire along the way.

"Darvix!" Cheriss yelled

As he looked behind him, he caught sight of a Stormtrooper emerging from a small pile of debris. Before Darvix could react, the Stormtrooper let off a blast that grazed above his elbow. Letting out a yelp, Darvix charged at the Stormtrooper, raising up his blade and slashing across his armored chest.

Darvix gritted his teeth as the Stormtrooper fell to the ground. He motioned Cheriss to proceed towards the Phantom again. As he ran, Darvix could feel the dampness of his own blood covering his arm as well as the sleeve of his orange flightsuit. The two of them ran quickly, avoiding the fire of the Stormtroopers now far behind them. They might be able to pull this off yet.

After what seemed like an eternity, Darvix leaned up against the cool metal hull of the Assault Gunboat. Cheriss was at his side, trying to catch her breath. Darvix sheathed his vibrosword once more, causing a few drops of his own blood to spill to the ground.

"You're hurt!" Cheriss said, a look of concern and worry on her face.

Darvix shook his head, "I'm fine. Come on, we need to get going."

He moved over to the Phantom and keyed the command to lower the entrance ramp. They had to be fast; the Stormtroopers would no doubt be close by now.

"Get out of here as soon as possible," Darvix told her. "Head about twenty klicks south and wait for me. I'm going to take care of these Imperial bucket-heads and buy the others a way out of here."

Darvix reached into his backpack and pulled out his flight helmet, sliding it over his head and cinching down the chinstrap. It was now or never, the next few moments would determine whether or not all of their efforts would be in vein. It was then that fear began to work his way into his system. As he slid on his black gloves, his thoughts returned to Cheriss. What if he didn't make it back to Coruscaunt? Worse, what would he do if he made it back, but she didn't?

"Darvix," Cheriss said, bringing him back to reality. "We…I…"

Before she could finish her thought, blaster fire pounded into the hull of the starfighter. With a hiss, the entry ramp finally began to rise off the floor, bringing Cheriss into the cockpit of the Phantom. Darvix looked at the starfighter for another moment before turning and opening the hatch to the Gunboat. He climbed in and strapped in, immediately lowering his helmet's blast visor. His hand flew over the command console, powering on the aging snubfighter. As he looked up, he saw the Phantom TIE speeding out of the hanger.

The Gunboat let out a loud whine as the repulsorlifts came to life, causing the starfighter to rise into the air. Darvix grabbed a hold of the twin flightsticks and brought the laser cannons online. He turned the craft and began to fire at the white outlines of Stormtroopers. Almost immediately the Imperials began to retreat away from the gunboat. After firing a few more green bolts, he turned towards the debris trapping the rest of the Rogues. His hands returned to the console, selecting the Rogue's scrambled frequency.

"Get clear, I'm going to blast your way to freedom!" Darvix said.

He pulled back on the trigger twice, causing two twin bursts of emerald laser fire to pierce the fallen support pillar. The metal almost immediately vaporized, creating a clear path for the Rogues.

"Transmitting signal to the Skate," Darvix said. "Good luck, Rogues."

"Acknowledged, Eleven," Wedge replied over his communications line. "May you fly on the wake of Angels."

Darvix smiled as he turned his Gunboat towards the exit. His hand moved to the throttle level and pushed forward, flying out of the facility.

* * *

"Skate's inbound!" Wedge yelled to the other Rogues. He looked up and watched as the old Gunboat soared out of the hanger. For the Rogues still in the facility, the wild adventure was nearly over, but Wedge knew that Darvix and Cheriss still had a ways to go before they were safe.

Wedge circled around the now molten metal pillar, his blaster raised. The stormtroopers had all but retreated, leaving countless white-armor clad bodies scatted along the blackened duracreet floor. In the distance, Wedge could hear the faint hum of the Pulsar Skate's engines. He signaled for the Rogues to move towards the light at the end of the hanger.

"We'd better hurry," Tycho said. "They're going to need all the help they can get. We can man some of the turrets on the Skate and provide cover for them."

Wedge nodded an affirmative. He prayed that there was still enough time to get off-world to help his two pilots.

* * *

Darvix cursed as he took a look at his forward sensor readout. Red blips were all over the screen. The Imperials had caught wind of the Rogues, not that he was surprised. Despite his Gunboat having shields and a hyperdrive, he was at a great disadvantage because he was outnumbered. A full TIE Interceptor screen was heading straight towards them.

"Working out hyperspace coordinates," he said into his helmet-mounted microphone. "We're shaving this close, Cheriss."

"I know, I know!" she replied, an edge of frustration in her voice. They had come this far, and both pilots were determined not to let the mission fail here.

"They're coming in way too fast," Darvix said. "Shut down your laser systems and send them to engines, I'm going to cover your exit vector."

"What about you?" she demanded.

"I'm going to make it out, too," he said. "I have no intentions of being vaped out here."

He scanned over his shield batteries again. Both forward and aft shields were at two hundred percent. The Gunboat may have been sluggish when compared to the nimble Interceptors, but it could take a beating. He was hoping that would be enough to get him home.

"Picked one up on my six," Cheriss said. "Could use a bit of help here, flyboy!"

"I'm on it!" Darvix replied.

He veered into the wake of the Interceptor chasing the stolen Phantom. The Imperial pilot didn't seem to notice Darvix. With ease, he settled his firing bracket in front of the TIE, waiting until it lit bright green. Quickly, he Darvix squeezed the trigger, sending two dual bursts of green laser fire into the Interceptor's aft, causing it to ignite and burst into a ball of flame and shrapnel.

Green fire suddenly poured past his own cockpit. "Got one on me. You'll have to start flying evasively, need to shake this piece of hutt-spawn."

Darvix pulled back on his flightsticks, causing his Gunboat to rise out of the way of enemy fire. Suddenly, his fighter shook as more fire hit his shields. Somehow he had picked up another trailer. Before he could veer away, his shield batteries had taken a heavy hit, down from a two hundred percent charge to only twenty percent in his front shields. His aft was exposed, and he knew the hull couldn't take much damage.

"I've got another one on me!" Cheriss yelled. "Aft shields down and I can't shake him! I need just a few more seconds to get the coordinates set!"

Darvix straightened out and began to fly towards Cheriss once more. He still had those two interceptors on his six, and they were gaining quickly. Darvix lined up his bracket and pulled the trigger, only to have nothing happen.

Sithspit! He yelled to himself. One of those Interceptors must have vaped his firing controls. He couldn't get that fighter off her six unless he…

"Cheriss," he said. "I'm going to try something."

"Darvix, what are you doing!" she demanded.

He flipped off his communications unit and altered his flight path again, shunting all available power to his engines. Moments later, he pulled back on the flightsticks hard. He gritted his teeth as he flew closer to Cheriss. Chances are this gamble wouldn't work, and would end up getting both of them killed. If it did work, she would be able to get the Phantom back to Coruscaunt. He had no choice; it was a risk he had to take.

In what seemed like a blur, his Gunboat flew between Cheriss and the Interceptor. Darvix's shields were gone, and his hull was exposed. The Interceptor fired two dual-linked shots intended for the Phantom. Just as the blasts were about to hit Cheriss, the Gunboat appeared, taking both sets of bolts into its underbelly.

"Oh, Sithspit…" Darvix muttered.

With a bright flash, Darvix's Gunboat caught fire. The wings sheared off first, causing the old snubfighter to spin wildly out of control. There was suddenly a bright, orange flash. Moments later, the Phantom Cheriss was piloting disappeared into hyperspace, leaving behind the debris of an Imperial Assault Gunboat.


	24. Part Two: Dramatis Personae

X-Wing: Rise of a Rogue  
Part II

**Dramatis Personae**

_The Rogues_

General Wedge Antilles (Human Male from Corellia)(Commanding Officer, Rogue Leader)  
Colonel Tycho Celchu (Human Male from Alderaan) (Executive Officer, Rogue One)  
Major Wes Janson (Human Male from Tanaab)(Rogue Two)  
Major Derek 'Hobbie' Klivian (Human Male from Ralltiir)(Rogue Three)  
Major Lane 'Ace' Azzameen (Human Male from Azzameen Station)(Rogue Five)  
Captain Corran Horn (Human Male from Corellia)(Rogue Nine)  
Captain Gavin Darklighter (Human Male from Tatooine)(Rogue Six)  
Captain Pash Cracken (Human Male from Contruum)(Rogue Ten)  
Lieutenant Myn Donos (Human Male from Corellia)(Rogue Seven)  
Lieutenant Inyri Forge (Human Female from Kessel)(Rogue Eight)  
Lieutenant Cheriss ke Hanadi (Human Female from Adumar)(Rogue Four)  
Lieutenant Darvix 'Dap' Zorvan (Human Male from Nar Shadaa)(Rogue Eleven)

_Rogue Squadron Support Personnel  
_  
Major Lysa Chanaan (Strategist and Quartermaster, Human Female from Zorbia II)  
Gate (Wedge's R5 unit)  
Whistler (Corran's R2 unit)  
Zone (Darvix's R2 unit)

_New Republic Military and Intelligence_

Admiral Ackbar (Mon Calamari male from Mon Calamari)  
General Airen Cracken (Human Male from Contruum)  
Iella Wessiri (Human Female from Corellia)  
Garik 'Face' Loran (Human Male from Pantolomin)  
Kell Tainer (Human Male from Sluis Van)  
Tyria Sarkin (Human Female from Toprawa)

_Crew of the Pulsar Skate_

Mirax Terrik Horn (Human Female from Corellia)

_Crew of the Corellian Star_

Trrax Cynedres (Human Male from Corellia)

_Imperial Forces_

Moff Jeris Celia (Human Male from Euceron)  
Captain Reyov Naolin (Human Male from Aargau)


	25. Hard Vacuum

Chapter One  
Vacuum

Darvix pulled back on his flightsticks hard, gritting his teeth as his Gunboat flew between Cheriss and the squint. In a flash, his snubfighter shook violently, throwing him back into his seat. He had been hit, and by the feeling of the sudden gee-forces, his inertial compensator must be dead. As he spun wildly away from the squint that had hit him, he saw Cheriss vanish into hyperspace.

The young pilot closed his eyes and resigned himself to the fact that he was about to be space debris. A warning alarm went off, telling him that the fuel lines behind him had caught fire. At this point, it was simply a matter of time before his fuel cells exploded, and if he were lucky, he wouldn't feel a thing. He closed his eyes tight as the forces of the uncontrolled spin pinned him into his flight seat.

There were so many things that he would leave unaccomplished: Repaying his debt to the Republic, getting back to Tatooine to apologize to Anya…and proving to just how much he cared about Cheriss. By joining Starfighter Command, Darvix knew he was resigning himself to a shortened lifespan. The life of a pilot was dangerous enough, but the life of a Rogue was far, far worse.

Cheriss. He couldn't leave her! Darvix would be crushed if he were in her situation. He owed it to her to do everything he could to get out of the doomed Gunboat. He was a Rogue, and he wouldn't go down without a fight. If the Rogues could take down a planetary government, then bailing out of a starfighter that was destined to become one with Carth Onasi's locker was no problem.

He opened his eyes and began to reach forward for the ejection lever. He cried out in pain as he moved his left arm. In the chaos of the space battle, he had forgotten that he had been shot while on the ground. His muscles wouldn't respond to him now, meaning that he would have to reach across his body with his right hand to toggle the eject. Unfortunately, with the intertial compensator out, it would be next to impossible to reach it.

Logic didn't stop him from trying anyways. He gritted his teeth once more as he reached towards the ejection switch. His entire body shook with effort as he inched closer to his last lifeline. After what seemed like an eternity, his shoulder flew back to his seat. He was spinning in the wrong direction, and there was no way he could hit the eject.

Darvix had to get out; he had to get back to Cheriss. Yelling out, he reached forward again, trying to reach the eject lever once more. He only had a few more seconds until his fuel cells lit up, and at that point, it would all be over. He tensed his fingers, as if wrapping them around the button. His eyes bore into it, every ounce of his being working towards bailing out of the cockpit.

It seemed as if it were a dream. The lever began to shake as his hand clenched around the imaginary eject. Darvix pulled his arm back and watched as the lever, as if acting on its own will, came forward. With a loud hiss, the canopy gave way and his flightseat began to move away from the starfighter. His spirits soared, he might get out of this mess yet.

The joy was short-lived. Almost immediately after pulling the eject, he felt a hot flash. His hand immediately flew to the utility belt on his flightsuit, pulling off the breathing apparatus that was to be used only if the magcon field surrounding him failed. He brought the mask to his face, attatching it to his helmet as the gunboat, mere feet behind him, burst into a ball of flame and shrapnel. The blast caused him to lurch forward, the force breaking the straps on his flightseat and causing him to drift away.

His right arm flew out on reflex, only to feel a jolt of searing pain run through it. Darvix knew his flightsuit would protect against flame, but shrapnel was another story. After what seemed like an eternity, all was quiet. The squints weren't chasing him, . Darvix was left amidst the debris of his own Gunboat.

He was adrift in the vacuum of space, and he was cold. His right arm was freezing, but it shouldn't be. Panic went through Darvix's mind as he looked over at his right arm. It was bleeding freely, and that meant the suit had been damaged and wasn't sealing correctly. This was very bad, if he didn't get his sleeve to seal, the entire suit could loose integrity. That would end his trip in a hurry.

There was only one thing he could do. A clean cut would promote the suit to seal correctly. Republic standard issue flightsuits were designed to create a magcon field around cuts in the suit, but often times they didn't work correctly if the cut wasn't large enough.

Darvix reached for the Vibroblade on his belt with his left arm, crying out as the pain shot through the blaster wound. If he were to have any chance, he had to do this. He forced the Vibroblade in his left hand to rest just above his right elbow. He turned his head away as he flipped the Vibroblade on.

Darvix found he was very thankful that sound didn't carry in the vacuum of space.

***

* * *

Wedge Antilles ran up the ramp and entered the Pulsar Skate. He flew up to the cockpit, a look of worry on his face. They had to hurry if they were going to have any chance of helping the two young pilots he had sent into space. They were so close to getting out of this deathtrap, and he wasn't going to let the Rogues fail now.

"Fire up and lets get the hell out of here!" he yelled to the pilot.

Mirax Horn's hands flew over her flight console. "You don't have to say that twice."

Wedge quickly sat down in one of the seats behind Mirax as the Baudo-Class yacht lurched forward. The Rogues were on board, and it was time to get off this damned planet. It had been one disaster after another. The Commando team being captured, the Stormtroopers showing up at their safehouse, the bulk of the Phantoms being transported off-world before the Rogues even showed up. The Imperials were always a step ahead of the Rogues, as if someone were tipping them off.

He looked through the forward viewport, seeing the slim outlines of three R-41 Starchasers. Gavin, Ace, and Myn had been sent back to the starport to escort the Skate off-world. If they were lucky, the Starchasers would prove to be just a precaution. Of course, the Rogues never were that lucky.

The blue of the Telosian sky melted into the dotted black of space. Immediately, Wedge knew they were in trouble. In the distance was an Imperial Star Destroyer, its bright hull and harsh lines clashing against the dark backdrop of the cosmos. The Starchasers began to peel off, forming up to provide cover for the Skate.

Wedge keyed his comm. "Rogues, get to the gun turrets and prepare to lay down defensive fire."

Wedge looked away from the viewport and to Mirax, who had a look of concern on her face.

"What is it?" Wedge asked.

Mirax's fingers continued to glide over her command console. "I'm picking up a distress beacon, looks like a flightsuit chest transmitter."

Those words caused a lump to rise in Wedge's throat. They were too late, Darvix and Cheriss must have been ambushed as soon as they were in space. The fact that they were picking up the signal of a distress beacon meant that things had gone very badly for them. The best-case scenario was that one of his pilots had escaped. The worst was that one of them had been vaped, and they were too late to save the other.

"Get the starchasers to give us cover, we need to recover that pilot," Wedge said.

Mirax nodded and keyed her comm., issuing the orders to the Starchaser escorts. Wedge had given the orders to his youngest pilots, and he was determined not to leave them behind. He watched the stars rotate as the Skate began flying towards the source of the distress.

"We'd better be quick," Mirax said. "We've got TIEs closing in fast."

Wedge took a look at the aft sensor readouts. A number of red blips were converging on them. "Get the coordinates set, settle in over the pilot and open the cargo bay on my signal."

Mirax nodded her acknowledgement. "Be safe, Wedge."

With that, Wedge stood and made his way towards the Skate's aft. He was thankful he was still clad in his flightsuit. It would make it that much easier to pull this reckless stunt off. Wedge quickly entered into the lower cargo bay, pulling the breathing apparatus off his utility belt and strapping it around his face.

His comm. hissed to life, "We're over him, Wedge."

Wedge grabbed a length of tether and clipped one end to his belt and another to the wall of the bay. "Open her up!"

The floor below him groaned, and at the same moment, he felt himself float into off the ground. Artificial gravity and atmosphere had been cut off, preventing a rush of escaping air that would have sucked him into space. Slowly, the floor opened beneath him, revealing the white-dotted black of space.

Wedge held his breath as young Darvix Zorvan came into view. With a firm push off the wall, Wedge floated towards the pilot. The sight of Darvix floating limp in the vacuum caused him to shiver. His right arm was missing from just above where his elbow should have been, and blood was splattered all over his flightsuit.

After what seemed like an eternity, Wedge wrapped his arms around the young, wounded pilot and began pulling them back into the Skate. In the distance, he could see the exchange of red and green laser fire. He could see his pilots had the upper hand, so it was just a matter of getting Darvix in and getting away in one piece.

Almost immediately after Wedge and the wounded pilot reentered the Skate, the floor closed beneath them, venting atmosphere back into the cargo bay. Wedge pulled off his breathing mask and knelt at Darvix's side, pulling off the young man's helmet and mask.

"Dap," Wedge said. "We're going to get you out of here."

"She made it," Darvix muttered quietly.

Despite the fact that a critically injured man was in front of him, a wave of relief washed over Wedge. Cheriss had gotten away with the Phantom! They had pulled off this deathtrap of a mission.

"Pretty bad, isn't it?" Darvix asked quietly.

Wedge shook his head. "I've seen worse…just need to get you into a bacta bath."

"Wonderful," Darvix said, smiling slightly. "Do I still have mess hall duty when I get home?"

Wedge couldn't help but smile. Even when critically injured, Darvix could display that youthful spirit he admired so much. Still, if he didn't get Darvix medical attention soon enough, that youthful spirit would become one with the Force.


	26. Salvation

Chapter Two  
Salvation

Republic Cruiser Mon Remonda

Cheriss ke Hanadi sighed heavily as she powered down the Phantom Starfighter that she had stolen from the Imperials. Against all odds, they had managed to get a hold of the snubfighter and smuggle it out of Imperial controlled space. It was now up to the technicians to try and find some sort of weakness in the cloaking system that gave the ship its name.

She keyed the command to lower the entrance ramp and stood, walking out of the fighter. The mission had been a disaster from day one; with every turn, it seemed as if the Imperials were one step ahead of them. She couldn't help but wonder if there was a leak among the Republic. Leak or not, intel had done an incredibly sloppy job on this vital task. Cheriss was starting to share Wedge's great dislike of General Cracken.

Cheriss undid the chinstrap on her flight helmet and slid it off her head, shaking her hair free. A deck officer approached her and snapped a salute, which she quickly returned.

"Where's Flight Officer Zorvan?" she asked, trying to sound as official as possible.

The deck officer looked at her with a confused expression. "I'm sorry, but you were the only one who dropped out of hyperspace."

Cheriss felt a lump rise to her throat. What had happened those few moments before she made the jump to hyperspace? Darvix had said he was going to try something to buy her some more time. She had lost contact with him shortly after that transmission. What had he done?

"Has the Skate made any transmissions?" she asked, her voice subdued.

"The Pulsar Skate has called in and informed command that they are making an emergency run to the Salvation."

Cheriss pushed past the deck officer and broke into a sprint to one of the adjacent h angers. The Frigate Salvation was one of the oldest medical ships in the Republic, being active years prior to the Battle of Yavin. The Salvation had a reputation of having a top-notch medical staff. That was what worried her. Something must have gone very, very wrong for the Skate to be making a last minute detour to the Frigate.

She burst into the hanger housing the Rogue Squadron X-Wings and made a mad dash to hers.

"You don't have flight clearance!" yelled a deck hand from behind her.

She turned briefly, "Then get me clearance! While you're at it, get my R2 unit down here!"

As soon as she reached her X-Wing, she keyed the canopy release and scurried up the starfighter. Cheriss planted herself in the flightseat and strapped in, beginning the preflight check. As she strapped on her helmet, her radio clicked to life.

"Rogue Four, you'd better have a good reason for this!"

The voice was unfamiliar to Cheriss, not that she particularly cared. "Rendezvousing with the rest of my squadron, they can use all the fighter escort they can get."

If they didn't clear her, she would blast her way out of this hanger. Something had gone wrong during the escape from Telos, and she wasn't going to sit by idly and wonder what had happened. Cheriss continued to power on her X-Wing.

"Rogue Four, you're clear for departure. Your R2 unit will be joining you shortly."

Cheriss growled, "Well that's tough I'm burning out of-"

That was unexpected. Someone had decided to give her the green-light to meet up with the Skate. Cheriss was ready to blow out the hanger doors and force her way out. Leave it to the Republic to spoil her fun.

"Ah…Acknowledged, command. Rogue Four out."

Soon after, her R2 unit was nested behind her. She issued a few commands into her flight console, and her repulsorlifts came alive. As she rose into the air, she watched the hanger doors slide open. Cheriss edged her throttle forward and flew away from the Mon Remonda.

"Set a course for the Frigate Salvation, Skiff," she ordered her R2 unit, who gave an affirmative beep.

By the Force, she thought to herself, let Dap be okay.

***

* * *

"Frigate Salvation," Wedge said into the Skate's communicator, "This is General Wedge Antilles onboard the Pulsar Skate requesting immediate medical attention."

The sound of static was interrupted by a new voice, "Credentials confirmed, Pulsar Skate. Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

"We have a critically injured pilot on board," Wedge replied. "Wounds sustained after bailing out mid-combat. Heavy loss of blood, severed lower arm. We're having a very hard time keeping him out of shock."

"Acknowledged, Pulsar Skate," the voice replied. "Land in hanger Alpha-Four. A medical team will be standing by."

"Thank you, Salvation."

Wedge switched off the Skate's communicator and flipped on his comlink. "How's he holding up, Corran?"

"We can't keep him stable much longer," Corran's voice said over the comlink. "Haven't been able to wake him up, Boss. Breathing and heartrate irregular."

Wedge frowned. Darvix couldn't hold on much longer, and he was genuinely concerned that they wouldn't be able to make it to the Salvation in time to save him. The young pilot had been resting in the back of the Skate for nearly twenty-four standard Coruscaunt hours, and his state of health had been deteriorating rapidly.

He felt the Skate set down on the landing surface of the Frigate Salvation. Mirax keyed the command to lower the entrance ramp, and Wedge ran to the back of the freighter. He was quickly cut off by the rushing medical staff. Wedge followed, entering into the makeshift medical room that the Rogues had set up for Darvix.

The medical team had surrounded Darvix and were lifting him onto the hover-stretcher. Wedge felt himself growing ill as he saw the state that his young pilot was in. His eyes were wide open, but without the power to his cybernetic eyes, all that was there were two black orbs. Darvix had become incredibly pale, no doubt from shock and loss of blood.

Wedge briskly followed the medical crew as they left the Skate, hauling Darvix to a treatment center. "How is he?"

One of the medical technicians looked to Wedge for a moment. "I'll be honest, sir. It doesn't look very good. He must have spent a good ten minutes in space, and who knows how long he was out there with the magcon failure on his suit."

"Magcon failure?" Wedge said, grimacing.

"He's showing signs of exposure on his right arm," the technician said. "Or what's left of it, anyways. He probably had to sever his own arm to get the magcon field restored around it. Unfortunately, that only explains the shock he's dealing with. The loss of blood has caused his immune system to shut down. He's incredibly weak, General…There's a good chance the Bacta bath could kill him."

"What can be done?" Wedge asked solemnly.

The technician looked at Wedge with an apologetic look, "Unfortunately, the Bacta bath is his only hope. If we treat him with it, he could die due to further shock, but if we don't, he is going to die regardless."

"Do it," Wedge said. The technician nodded and hauled young Darvix Zorvan into the treatment facility. Wedge swore aloud and punched the wall beside him. Damn Cracken for putting him in this position again. Damn him for nearly killing another one of his pilots.

***

* * *

The outline of a Republic X-Wing, marked with the Rogue Squadron insignia and painted with an Adumari scheme, appeared out of hyperspace. The sleek snubfighter made its way towards the Salvation.

"Salvation, this is Rogue Four," Cheriss said, hailing the medical frigate, "Rendezvousing with the rest of my wing, request landing clearance."

Her communications unit hissed to life, "Access granted, proceed to hanger Alpha-Four."

Cheriss carefully edged her X-Wing into the tight hanger, setting down alongside the Pulsar Skate. She quickly keyed the canopy release and jumped to the floor before a ladder was brought to her. As soon as she was on her feet, she grabbed a hold of one of the deck officers.

"Where's my CO?" She asked, her tone urgent.

"Outside of the treatment facility," he responded.

She abruptly pushed past the officer and briskly walked out of the hanger. Cheriss hoped with all her being that Darvix was safe, she would never be able to forgive herself if he died to save her. Cheriss turned a corner and ran into Wedge.

"What in the name of the Force are you doing here?" He demanded.

Cheriss looked past Wedge and saw a number of Rogues waiting outside a sliding door. "I got word you made an emergency reroute here. What happened?"

Wedge looked at Cheriss for a moment. Would it be wise to tell her what happened? He knew that if he were in Cheriss situation, he would want to be told the truth.

"Darvix was injured while bailing out of his Gunboat," Wedge said. "He's undergoing treatment right now."

Cheriss eyes opened wide as the news hit her like a Duracreet wall. Darvix had sacrificed himself to buy her more time. She pushed past Wedge and a few other Rogues, making her way into the treatment facility.

She wasn't quite sure how long she stood, completely numb. Floating in a bacta tank across from her was Darvix Zorvan, completely limp. His right arm was missing from the elbow on down. Cheriss slowly began to move towards the bacta tank.

"You can't be in here!" came a voice from behind her.

The words didn't seem to register with her. Cheriss looked up at the floating figure of Darvix, lifeless in the bacta tank. She placed her hand against the cool surface, trying to surpress the emotions rising within her. To cry now would display a great deal of weakness, and there was no honor in weakness. She hadn't cried since she was a little girl on her homeworld of Adumar.

As she looked up at Darvix, a few tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. Hell to honor and weakness. She leaned her forehead against the cold bacta tank as tears continued to stream down her face.


	27. Flashbacks and Reflection

Chapter Three  
Flashbacks and Reflection

"The Jedi," his mother said to him. "Are nothing but religious fanatics who had far too much control over the Galaxy."

Young Darvix Zorvan had read about the Jedi Knights in the school archives. The encyclopedia didn't have much to say about them, other than their order was eliminated on command of Emperor Palpatine. He wondered what atrocities they committed, for the Emperor wouldn't ruthlessly order the deaths of countless men, women, and children unless it was absolutely called for. Such an act was inhumane and below the morals of the Galactic Empire. No, such an act could only be imposed on those who were morally bankrupt, devoid of compassion and righteousness. The exact opposite of the Galactic Empire.

"The encyclopedia said the Jedi claimed to use the Force," Darvix said with the curiosity only a twelve year old could possess. "What is it?"

His mother looked at him once more. It would be better to stem off these questions now, rather than have him develop delusions of grandeur contrary to that which the Empire stood for.

"The Force doesn't exist," she replied. "It simply was…a trick they used to make themselves look powerful, a story they told children to scare them."

The Jedi sounded like the people his mother told him never to associate with. It was wrong to defy the Emperor, and these Jedi sounded as if they wanted nothing to do with Palpatine or the Galactic Empire. Still, the young boy was confused as to why the Emperor ordered them to be killed.

"But," he said softly, "what did they do, that was so wrong?"

A difficult question to answer. The horrible doings of the Jedi was something she hoped to shield her son from, but with her own history with the Jedi, she knew it was unavoidable. If he didn't learn the truth now, she feared that Darvix would fall down the path of evil like those before him. She refused to lose her son that way, Darvix would be a loyal subject of the Empire.

"The Jedi were very powerful people. They used fear to scare entire planets to do their will, and through that fear their subjects believed they were safe. That's what the Force really was, Darvie. It was fear.

"They took children away from their parents, to brainwash them and force them into their cult. When they ran into anyone who didn't agree with them, they would kill them. They were ruthless, Darvix."

Darvix shivered a bit. He couldn't imagine being taken away from his parents, forced to work against the Empire. The Jedi were horrible people, but still, was what he had been told enough to warrant what had been done to them?

"Thousands of years ago," she continued, "A Jedi came here, to Nar Shadaa. This was once world with a thriving economy, where people like us would be wealthy and safe. That Jedi destroyed the way our world ran, and destroyed any hope for us, and countless generations before, to advance in society."

Darvix's mother had an uneasy look on her face. He knew that what she was about to tell him next was going to be difficult.

"It was the Jedi ideology that caused the death of your father," she said quietly.

He looked up at his mother in stunned disbelief, "The Jedi killed father…?"

She had a decision to make. Would she tell her son the whole truth, or lie? The truth could scare him away from the Empire, and there would be no way to stop him. Darvix was just as strong-willed as his father was, and that was what got him killed. She couldn't allow her son to fall away from the Empire, for surely that would spell his doom.

"Yes," she said simply. "It was the Jedi."

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan's eyes snapped open, but he couldn't see. For a few moments his mind panicked, unsure of where he was. He slowly began to calm as he realized that his cybernetic eyes must have lost power. Unfortunately, that didn't provide much comfort to him. The last thing he remembered was being cold, very cold.

It came back to him, the memory hitting his mind hard. He had been hit trying to cover Cheriss' exit and was forced to bail out. Judging by the fact that he was somewhat conscious, he assumed that he had been recovered, but by whom? The Rogues could have picked him up on the Skate as they made their way out. However, it was more likely the Imperials had picked him up after he ejected. If that was the case, Darvix knew he would have been better off dead in the vacuum of space.

Without his vision, Darvix had time to think. While he was unconscious, he had a flashback of a conversation he and his mother had shared when he was much younger. It sickened him to reflect on how he had been raised, a mindless servant of the Emperor, an Emperor who had died years prior to that conversation. All that had mattered to him was doing whatever it took to be a loyal subject of the Empire.

Then there was the Jedi. Yes, the Empire had vilified them and all but destroyed them, but for them to anger her mother? They must have truly been monsters. The Jedi had taken his biological father away from him, leaving him to grow up with a monster in his place. He couldn't forgive them for that. How could the New Republic stand by idly while that madman Skywalker rebuilt the Jedi Order? He would have to dismiss the thought, it wasn't his job to dictate Republic policy. All he had to do was blow TIEs out of existence.

The Empire may be corrupt, heartless machines, but maybe they were right about one thing. The Jedi had no place in the Galaxy.

Darvix idly wished his cybernetic eyes would power on, so he could distract himself from his thoughts. He hated to reflect on the past, so many memories he wished he could vaporize, so many things he wasn't proud of. Darvix wished he hadn't grown up on Nar Shadaa. All of his childhood memories were dominated by horror and bloodshed; watching that Imperial officer kill the Twi'leks, and then killing a young Twi'lek girl himself, witnessing the death of his closest friend at the hands of Imperial Stormtroopers, simply because they chose to defy the Empire and show compassion to all sentient beings.

Furthermore, Darvix thought to himself, why do I feel so wet all over?

He moved his head a bit, only to realize that he was surrounded by a very thick, very wet substance. At that point, his mind decided to remind him that he didn't know how to swim.

Sithspit! Darvix's mind yelled. I'm going to drown!

Darvix flailed wildly as he was pulled out of the Bacta tank, still completely oblivious as to where he was.

***

* * *

He found himself on board a Lambda Class shuttle the next day, headed towards the Mon Remonda. Darvix was stunned to discover that he had been in the tank for over a month, being treated for the wounds he sustained in combat. He was relieved to hear that the Skate had recovered him and brought him to the Salvation, and was ecstatic to hear that they had succeeded in stealing the Phantom.

That meant Cheriss was safe. All of the Rogues were safe. It seemed to defy logic; despite the fact that they had sent twelve pilots on a mission of certain doom, he had been the only one who was injured. With the poor luck they had on Telos, Darvix knew the situation could have been much worse.

Darvix's situation turned out to be considerably less lucky. Hours after he was pulled out of the Bacta tank, he was fitted for a cybernetic arm. He vaguely remembered using the vibroblade to remove his wounded arm in order to restore the magcon field on his damaged flightsuit. The young pilot refused to watch as the medical droid wired the mechanical arm on to him. It was just another piece of technology that made him less human, and more machine. Just like those damned Imperials.

The shuttle vibrated slightly as it made contact with the floor of the Mon Remonda's shuttle bay hanger. Darvix undid the straps holding him into his seat, glad that he was finally home. He could finally begin to put this disaster of a mission behind him and get back to flying.

If I can ever get used to this Force forsaken arm, he grumbled to himself.

He stood and stepped off the shuttle, wincing a bit as he tried to waken his stiff muscles. It had been a very long flight, and the Sullustan pilot hadn't been very talkative to boot. As he set foot on the cold floor of the hanger, a young deck hand met him, snapping a salute.

"Welcome back, Flight Officer Zorvan," the deck hand said.

Darvix returned the gesture with a half-baked salute. He had never been one for proper military procedure.

"Where's the rest of the Rogues?" Darvix asked.

"On patrol, they're due back in one standard hour."

Darvix nodded. He was hoping to meet up with them, so they would know he was safely home. As of now, they were his family. He would want them to do the same.

"Have they been informed of my discharge from the Salvation?"

The deck hand shook his head, "Negetive, sir. They left two days ago, just before Salvation sent your discharge documents."

A smile crept on to Darvix's face. Perhaps he should surprise them…

"I want radio transmissions to Rogue Squadron not to indicate I'm back," Darvix said. "Furthermore, I'm going to need to borrow your uniform."

"…sir?" the deck hand asked, obviously confused.

"Please, entertain me," Darvix replied. "I've been in a Bacta tank for the last month."

***

* * *

Cheriss ke Hanadi powered off her X-Wing and keyed the canopy release. Two straight days of recon. The Phantom Fighters had instilled a great deal of fear in the fighter corps, and the result was the Rogues having to perform a large number of tasks to ensure that Republic space was clear. She was grateful that they would finally be getting a few days off. Resting the body and mind was something all of them needed desperately.

The ends of a yellow ladder hooked on to the edge of her cockpit, and a green clad deck hand climbed up to take her flight helmet.

"Welcome home, Flight Officer," the deck hand said.

She nodded and handed him her helmet. "I need one of you to check the lateral controls, they're feeling pretty sluggish. I think the inertial compensator is a little out of adjust…"

Cheriss must have been seeing things. The doctors had said he probably wouldn't make it, and the rest of the Rogues hadn't heard from them in weeks. She had assumed his health was deteriorating. This was some sort of sick, cruel joke.

The deck hand tilted his head, the bright blue orbs that were his cybernetic eyes bore into her. "I'm gone for a month and you don't have anything to say?"

Truth be told, she didn't have anything to say. Cheriss threw her arms around Darvix Zorvan, drawing him towards her and kissing the young pilot as tears of joy and relief streamed down her cheeks.

Crying again, she mused. This boy might be the death of me.


	28. Unwelcome Orders

Chapter Four  
Unwelcome Orders

Darvix tugged at the jacket of his dress uniform. He thanked the stars he was half blind, because if the uniform looked as horrid as it felt on him… That was a thought that would no doubt haunt him to his grave. Perhaps there were perks to having cybernetic eyes. He shook his head and tried to refocus his thoughts.

He had been called into the ceremony chambers on board the Mon Remonda, though he was unsure why. Darvix couldn't help but chew on his lower lip. He hated being in front of so many people, it seemed as if the entire Mon Remonda crew was present, staring up at him. How he wished he could get out of the spotlight, and out of his dress uniform.

Glancing over, he caught sight of Cheriss. She looked to be just as uncomfortable in her own dress uniform, causing Darvix to smile faintly. Cheriss had been overwhelmed with emotion when Darvix surprised her in the hanger the day before. He had learned that the medical technicians on board the Salvation had all but signed his death certificate. The Doctors had been shocked to discover that he would make it, and the Rogues were elated.

Darvix's ears perked up as a hushed silence fell over the room. As he turned his head, he saw Wedge Antilles flanked by Admiral Ackbar on one side and General Airen Cracken on the other. The young pilot assumed they had come from the Republic flagship Independence, which the Mon Remonda had rendezvoused with hours earlier. He was suddenly getting a very, very bad feeling about his current situation.

Admiral Ackbar stepped on to a podium nearby Darvix. "Men and women of the Mon Remonda, we have heros in our midst."

Bad feeling confirmed. Darvix let out a silent groan, the last thing he wanted was to be glorified for the idiotic stunt that wound up costing him his arm. Pilots who let their exposed starfighter take a laser hit didn't deserve glory. He would have given anything to be anywhere else at that moment.

"One month ago," Ackbar continued, "Our own Rogue Squadron was dispatched to an Imperial world to commandeer a Phantom TIE. We are pleased to announce, that they succeeded and our technician's are well under way in spotting a weakness to exploit. Soon, we will no longer have to live in fear of the Empire's Phantom Fighters."

A chorus of cheers emerged from the crewmen of the Mon Remonda. After a few moments, Admiral Ackbar raised a web hand as his mouth formed the Calamari approximation of a smile.

"This was the first major assignment for two of the Rogues," Ackbar said. "And they consistently proved that they were able to perform above and beyond the call of duty. Flight Officers Cheriss ke Hanadi and Darvix Zorvan, please step forward."

The two young pilots looked at each other for a moment before approaching the Admiral. Wedge, clad in his own flight uniform smiled and rolled his eyes. He knew exactly how uncomfortable this was for his two pilots. Wedge stepped towards the pilots, holding a small box in his hand. As he opened it, Darvix saw two small, brown buttons.

"I'm proud to promote both of you to the rank of Lieutenant," Wedge said, pinning the first pip onto the shoulder patch on Cheriss' uniform. "This of course means you now get enough pay to afford leave every ten years."

Darvix grinned as his commanding officer pinned the new rank onto his shoulder. It was apparent that Wedge found military procedure to be as annoying as he did. I knew there was a reason I liked that man, Darvix mused.

Wedge snapped a salute that the pilots quickly returned. Darvix couldn't help the feeling of pride that was bubbling within him. He hadn't expected to receive a promotion this early in his career. Well, he hadn't expected to be considered a 'hero' this early in his career either…if ever. As Wedge returned to Ackbar's side, the Mon Calamari continued to speak.

"These two young warriors were responsible for the success of the Rogue's mission. It was Cheriss who piloted the Phantom, amid a dogfight of incredibly dangerous proportions, back to the Republic, and it was Darvix who gave her the time to do it."

Ackbar approached the two pilots, an opened box in hand. "For bravery above and far beyond the call of duty, and succeeding in the face of certain danger and doom, it is my great honor to award the both of you the Kalidor Crescent."

With that, the Mon Calamari Admiral procured two golden medals attached to wide ribbon necklaces. The metallic objects were in the shape of the Kalidor, a bird that was once native to Alderaan. Below the bird was the image of a crescent moon. Tycho had once told Darvix that the Kalidor had been viewed as a symbol of great strength and courage. The Kalidor Crescent was now one of the greatest honors a New Republic military and naval officer could receive.

Darvix and Cheriss bowed slightly as Admiral Ackbar placed the medallions around their necks. As soon as he was finished, Ackbar stood in front of Darvix.

"Finally," he continued. "For wounds sustained in combat, the New Republic hereby awards you the Bronze Cluster."

Ackbar pinned a bronze colored set of bars onto his collar. This was most certainly an award that Darvix never wanted to receive. It had cost him an arm, and all he got in return was a lousy set of metallic bars to put on his uniform.

At last it was over. Darvix and Cheriss snapped a final salute and turned on their heels, quickly walking out of the ceremony chambers.

***

* * *

Hours later, the Rogues had gathered around the holoprojector of the briefing room. Only one day back, and already Darvix found himself being sent into the thick of war again. He prayed that this time around, he had better luck. Darvix couldn't afford to loose many more body parts. Darvix was woken up from his thoughts as Wedge and Tycho entered the room.

"It's good to have a full house again," Wedge said. "Before we get started, we have some personnel issues to attend to. First and foremost, I regret to inform all of you that Ooryl Qyrrg will be leaving us to return to his homeworld. Ooryl, we wish you the best of luck in your travelings. May our paths cross again."

The Gand stood and meekly bowed. "Ooryl has been greatly honored to serve with all of you, and will miss you greatly."

For a long while, but to the Rogues, not long enough, hand shakes and embraces were exchanged with the long time Rogue pilot. Darvix watched as the Gand shared a warm embrace with Corran Horn, his long time wingman. Despite the short while that Darvix had known Ooryl, he felt a bit of a lump rise to his throat. The Rogues were the closest thing that he had to family, and it was hard to watch any of them go. He was grateful that Ooryl would be returning home, however. Darvix wished the Gand the best of luck. With one last look behind him, Ooryl Qyrrg stepped out of the briefing room.

Wedge sighed a bit before looking up at the Rogues again, "I am glad to inform you, however, that an old friend of ours is returning…"

Through the doors stepped a face that Darvix didn't immediately recognize, but by the response the Rogues around him had, a companion from the past had returned to their presence.

"Pash, it's good to have you back with us," Wedge said.

Pash Cracken grinned, "I couldn't miss out on another suicide mission."

With that, Captain Pash Cracken took a seat beside Darvix, but before he could extend his greeting to the new Rogue, Wedge spoke up again.

"As you're all aware, Nawara Ven has taken up a position with old Booster Terrik," Wedge continued.

"What?" Wes asked, feigning shock. "He left us for money?"

Inyri cocked an eyebrow "You wouldn't?"

"That's beside the point," Wes replied.

Wedge rolled his eyes. "Colonel Celchu will be taking over as the Rogue Squadron executive officer once more, and we have been sent a new officer to fill in for Ven. If you haven't met her yet, Major Lysa Chanaan is in the back of the room."

Darvix turned to see the outline of a woman nodding her response. He assumed that she was in her early to mid thirties.

"Major Chanaan will be serving as a strategist," Wedge said. "She has over a decade of military planning experience under her belt, and is a welcome addition to the Squadron. Furthermore, she will serve as the squadron quartermaster. Supply needs will be directed through her."

"Thank goodness," Wes said. "I was afraid they were going to send Emtrey back to us. Does this mean I can finally get my own case of Corellian brandy?"

"Over my dead body," Chanaan replied.

Hobbie grinned, "I like her, Wedge. Can we keep her?"

Wedge rolled his eyes once more, "That will be it for personnel matters, Mr. Celchu, if you'd please."

Tycho stepped up to the holoprojector, dimming the room lights and turning on the unit, "I wish we had better news. The technicians at Sluis Van have been pouring over the Phantom's cloaking device for a month now, but have yet to find any sort of anomaly our sensors can exploit. Regardless to say, this puts us, and the rest of the Republic, in grave danger."

"However," Tycho continued, "Intelligence has tracked down the location of one of the lead developers of the Phantom project."

Darvix nodded. Originally, the goal was to either capture or kill the production staff, but when they were forced to accelerate the pace of the mission on Telos, they had to throw that task aside.

"Command is sending us back into the action, Rogues," Tycho said. "We'll be taking on the disguise of a group of pilots for hire. Our X-Wings are being repainted as we speak."

"Wonderful," Wes said. "Where are we going this time?"

Tycho entered a few commands into the holoprojector, displaying the image of a backwater world that, chances are, most of the Rogue's wouldn't recognize. Except for one. Darvix felt a cold pit forming in his stomach. This couldn't be happening, he refused to believe this was happening to him.

"This, in the heart of Imperial space," Tycho said. "Is Nar Shadaa."


	29. Self Medicating

Chapter Five.

The Rogues and their X-Wings had been transferred to a modified Corellian Corvette, the Penetrator. It was a tight squeeze, but all twelve of the X-Wings had been placed into the storage bays. Darvix had been told that the former Wraith Squadron had pulled a similar stunt in their efforts against an Imperial Warlord. The Rogues would fly aboard the Penetrator until it was about three-quarters of the way to Nar Shadaa. At that point, The Rogues would assume command of their X-Wings for the last leg of the trip.

Unfortunately, Darvix said to himself, this flight is over in only four days.

Darvix didn't want to return to his homeworld of Nar Shadaa. He had fought so hard to leave that backwater moon, and now the Republic was sending him back. Darvix idly wondered when fate would give him a hand of Sabaac cards that he could do something with. It seemed as if the universe had a flush, and he was about to loose his shirt.

He tossed down the rest of his Lomin ale. Darvix knew in the back of his mind that he would end up paying for the five mugs he had already downed. Normally, the young pilot wasn't much of a drinker, but the last thing he wanted to do now was think about the backwater moon he was returning to.

"I think you've had too much to drink," came a soothing voice from beside him.

Cheriss ke Hanadi took a sit beside Darvix, leaning in to him a bit. The two of them had been virtually inseparable since his return from the Salvation. Cheriss had been distraught when the initial report had come from the salvation. Darvix had lost so much blood, his entire circulatory had been compromised. The doctors had kept him in the Bacta tank only to ease the death that certainly awaited him.

"I beg to differ," he replied. "I don't think I've had enough."

Cheriss shook her head, "Come on, Darvix. There's no honor in running away from fear, and there's nothing more childish than running away from home."

" 'Riss," he said, addressing her with his pet name for her. "My entire life is filled with dishonor. Growing up as a brainwashed Imperial servant has a tendency to do that to a person…besides, wanting to avoid conflict isn't dishonorable, it's smart."

Cheriss let out a silent sigh. It was incredibly difficult to understand Darvix at times. How could such a brave young man act like such a coward when it came to his home world? Here was a rather green pilot, fresh out of the Academy and made a Rogue, who had already been in two bitter firefights and had willingly sacrificed himself to save her. Yet, he was afraid of returning home. It just didn't add up, what could have happened to him as a child?

Whatever it was, belittling Darvix wasn't going to help him. Had it been anyone else, she probably would have said something demeaning. She had grown up like that, not caring for anyone but herself. Being raised in a cutthroat world like Adumar forced her to live like that, but Darvix came along. Now she had to change. She couldn't constantly give him the cold shoulder, not to the man who had saved her life. Not to the man who loved her.

"You've faced so much worse, Dap," she said softly as she leaned into him, softly nuzzling his shoulder. "We'll be in and out of there in no time."

Darvix smiled slightly, turning his head to look at her. Despite the fact that he was a stuck up, overconfident know-it-all, she loved him. Damn that boy, making her feel feminine.

She shrugged off that last thought as she closed her eyes, leaning in to kiss Darvix softly.

***

* * *

Wedge leaned back in his chair and powered off his datapad, looking across his temporary desk at Iella Wessiri and Face Loran. Command had assigned them to join the Rogues for the mission to Nar Shadaa. Despite the fact that they had been ambushed several times at Telos, Command, as well as Wedge, felt that they were sending the best agents they had.

"Who do we have on Nar Shadaa?" Wedge asked.

"Two agents," Iella replied. "Tyria Sarkin and Kell Tainer."

Wedge smiled. Two of his former wraiths (As well as Face) would be working with the Rogues. He knew from experience that Kell and Tyria were excellent intelligence agents. Wedge knew he could trust both of them to assist the Rogues find the Imp technician…Provided they weren't too busy playing suck-face.

"What do we know about Nar Shadaa?" Wedge said.

Face raised a brow, "Don't you have a pilot from there?"

"I don't think he wants to talk about his home," Wedge said, shaking his head. "Besides, it's been about five years since he was last there."

Face nodded and turned on his datapad, "Nar Shadaa is one of the oldest of the urban worlds, joining the Old Republic about five-thousand years before the fall of the Jedi Order. Throughout its history, the economic system has been controlled by hutts, gangs, and the black market. About four-thousand years ago, an exiled Jedi all but destroyed the corrupt organizations controlling the planet. Unfortunately, that resulted in four-thousand years of economic instability and political unrest.

"When the Republic fell and Emperor Palpatine came in to power, Nar Shadaa was the first planet to sign on with the Empire. They hoped that the Empire would provide be able to support them financially. With that support, the began to rebuild, and Nar Shadaa was once again a strong, yet corrupt, urban center."

Wedge nodded. Sounded like a typical Imperial controlled world. No doubt the politicians the Empire had left in charge of the world were living a luxurious life, while those under them struggled every day. From what he had learned from Darvix, many lived in poverty. Darvix himself lost his vision because the doctors and medical facilities couldn't afford Bacta to treat a relatively simple viral infection. Of course, that was during the height of the Krytos scare. Wedge had wondered at times if the pirate-like raids that they pulled on Bacta convoys had made it impossible for Darvix to get proper treatment.

"I should warn you," Iella said. "That it is going to be incredibly difficult to locate our target. Nar Shadaa is an urban wasteland, where shady figures go to hide. Compound that with the fact that the population of the world is over eight billion. Most would argue it'd be impossible to find the target."

Wedge smiled, "Impossible is our business, love."

***

* * *

Darvix leaned against Cheriss as he made his way back to his temporary quarters. She had been right, Darvix had way too much to drink. At least the pounding headache he was suffering from would take his mind off Nar Shadaa.

"Darv?" Cheriss asked, "Could I ask you something?"

Darvix nodded, "Sure."

"What in the Galaxy do you do for fun?"

He raised an eyebrow in response, "What is this 'fun' you speak of?"

She glared at him a bit. In all honesty, Darvix couldn't remember the last time he had done something just for the sake of entertainment. He rarely watched holovids, never went to nightclubs, and hadn't even gone on a date since he was a teenager on Tatooine. Of course, that last fact didn't matter anymore. He found himself quite content, being with Cheriss.

"Other than the fact that you're a pilot," she said. "We don't know that much about you."

"What's there to know?" he asked. "Twenty standard years old, grew up on an Imperial controlled nightmare of a moon-"

"Dap," she admonished.

Darvix smiled and rolled his eyes, "Fine, 'Riss. You win."

She smiled and kissed Darvix's cheek. If there was anything he had learned over the years, it wasn't wise to defy a woman. All that ever came out of that was pain, or death by lecture. He couldn't think of many things worse than the wrath of a woman, and he knew there was absolutely nothing worse than the wrath of Cheriss. In order to save his sanity (And general well being), he'd have to answer the question.

"Well," he said with a sigh, "When I was younger I was determined to be a musician. I studied music theory in school. I'd perform at some local spots with a few of my friends…Managed to buy my first speeder with gig money alone."

Cheriss smiled again, "Played an instrument?"

"The synthophone," he said with a nod, "popular instrument at home. I used to be pretty good at it, though I haven't touched it since I enrolled at the Academy. I also sang a bit on the side."

"You?" Cheriss asked, genuinely shocked, "Sing? Come now, Dap. What do you take me for?"

"I'm serious!" he replied, "and I enjoyed it. I'd spend hours at some of the hotspots, just jamming with other musicians."

"I don't know if I believe you, love," she said, grinning up at him.

"And why not?" he asked in turn.

"Simple," she said. "You're the terminal geek type. I don't think I can picture you performing in front of an audience, you're simply not social enough to do something like that."

"I am not a terminal geek!" he replied, feeling himself growing flustered.

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Furthermore," he continued, "I am being very honest when I say my hobby is music. In fact, when we get home, I'll prove it to you."

"I'll hold you to that, Darvy," she replied with another grin.

"I wouldn't expect anything else from you," Darvix replied.

She looked forward again, "Besides, I know you wouldn't pass up a chance to show off."

Darvix shook his head, smiling, "Who would have thought I'd end up with a stuck up tomboy like you?"

"Who would have thought I'd end up with a smart-alec Terminal geek like you?"

Darvix laughed a bit and wrapped his arm around Cheriss. For the time being, the thought of heading back to Nar Shadaa was off his mind. He knew these care-free moments were too few and too far between. He'd have to enjoy them while he could, soon he'd be in the middle of a mission that would determine whether or not the Republic survived.


	30. Ghosts

Chapter Six  
Ghosts

Lieutenant Arlin Peratos nervously glanced at his sensor readouts. All of these rumors about these 'Phantom Fighters' had been taking its toll on his nerves. The thought of an undetectable force that might be tailing his squadron was frightening. How could they fend off an attack from an invisible assailant?

Peratos looked at his forward and aft sensors again, still only seeing the green blips of Republic contacts. Only a few more hours until his shift ended, and he could return to the Frigate he was stationed on. The sooner he was out of the cockpit of his B-Wing, the better. His starfighter wasn't even an ideal choice to use in a dogfight, leave that to the sleek A-Wing or the multipurpose X-Wing. His starfighter may have been a relatively fast assault snub, but even a standard TIE Fighter could out fly and outmaneuver him.

"Three here," his comm. said. "Nothing out here but the ghost ships."

Peratos shook his head, "There's no such thing as ghosts, Three."

"Tell that to the crew of Omega Outpost and Grey Flight," he replied.

A few months earlier, Command had lost contact with a sensor platform and her flight of Y-Wing escorts. After the sensor logs were recovered, it was discovered that they had been fired upon by unknown contacts. Still, the logs couldn't pin down who the attackers where, or where they came from.

The first incident with the Phantoms had only fueled the legends this area had. It was long believed that Omega post was placed in a starship graveyard. Thousands of years ago, an epic battle between Old Republic forces and the Sith fleet occurred over a nearby star. Legend says that the Sith had discovered an awesome factory that manufactured a limitless amount of starships. It was said to have been a facility of epic proportions, harvesting energy from the sun it orbited. It was aptly named the Star Forge, and had it not been destroyed, the Galaxy would be under Sith control this very moment. In the end, countless Sith and Republic ships had been destroyed over that star, killing thousands in the process.

Of course, the story was just an old Jedi legend. When Emperor Palpatine had taken command of the galaxy, he had destroyed a great number of records that may have detailed its existence. If there was any truth behind the tale, it was long gone. Still, Peratos couldn't deny the disasters that seemed to happen in this area. Before Omega Outpost, a convoy of Bacta hauling freighters had disappeared in this sector. Over a decade ago, a fleet of Rebellion Corvettes had been destroyed, though no official explanation had ever been given as to the cause.

"I've got an anomaly on the sensors," his wingman said. "Trying to lock it-"

The sound of laser fire filled Peratos' communications unit, followed quickly by the hissing of static.

"Two's gone!" three shouted. "Hell, it's the Phantoms!"

Decision time. Lock into attack mode and wish for a miracle, or get the hell out of there. Peratos was no fool, he knew they had no chance fending off an attack from their invisible assailants.

"Lock in your NAV computers to the quickest route out, go evasive and get out of here!" Peratos shouted.

As he began to juke and jink the flightstick at random, he looked to his port side and saw the Frigate he was stationed on begin to move towards its escape vector. The Frigate was helpless. There was nothing Peratos or the rest of his flight could do to help her. Without any sort of visual or sensor readout on the attackers, they couldn't defend the frigate.

Shunting laser cannon power to his engines, he flew away from the frigate. It pained him to be leaving the crew members of the Frigate behind, to what he knew was their deaths. Unfortunately, he was considerably more useful to the Republic alive. The sensor data on his starfighter would no doubt prove to be valuable. Peratos had to escape.

"Shields failing!" his wingman said, "I need more time to lock in the coordin-"

His radio hissed again, causing Peratos to swear aloud. He had just lost another wingman, meaning that the Phantoms were probably converging on him now. Green fire began to pour past his starfighter as he flew off. His console let off a series of electronic beeps as his Navicomputer locked in to his hyperspace coordinates. Peratos' hand flew to the lever controller his hyperdrive. As he pulled back on it, the stars streaked into lines on his viewport before he disappeared into the molten black and blue of Hyperspace.

***

* * *

Several hours later, the Imperial Star Destroyer known as the Ender dropped into the system known simply as 'The Graveyard." Captain Reyov Naolin sat up a bit more in his command seat as he looked through the viewport, awaiting the report from his Phantoms. Naolin had sent the fighters to clear the area a few hours before the Ender had left for this sector.

In the distance, Naolin saw the faint purple flashing of the Phantom's disengaging their cloaking devices. He watched as the tri-winged TIEs made their way towards the Ender's hanger.

"Phantom wing reports that the Rebel Frigate and most of her fighter escorts were destroyed," a bridge officer said to Naolin, "One starfighter escaped, B-Wing class. However, this area is too far away from any Rebel stations for it to get far. Do we pursue?"

Naolin weighed the options. There was a chance that the Rebel snub had gotten sensor data that would prove useful to the enemy. Still, he could be sure that the starfighter would run out of fuel well before getting to any Rebel outposts. They probably had other things to worry about, what good would sending a search team for one insignificant snubfighter do them?

"Negetive," Naolin replied. "Prepare the sector for the rest of the fleet."

One starfighter couldn't get in the way of the task at hand. The Empire had just taken control of the Graveyard, a sector that was ideal to begin staging the assault on the Rebel fleet. The first test of the final model Phantom TIEs had been a success; the rebels didn't see them coming. Once they had realized their presence, it was too late.

It was going to be a good day, Naolin mused to himself.

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan leaned back into his flightseat. It felt good to be behind the stick of his trusty X-Wing once more. Before they had left the Mon Remonda, the entire squadron worth of X-Wings had been repainted. The Rogue and Republic insignias had been removed, replaced instead by a design that Face Loran had chosen.

On Darvix's wing were Pash Cracken, Ace Azzameen, and Myn Donos. The rest of the Rogues were on board the Escort Shuttle that they were flying in to Nar Shadaa. In the distance, Darvix could make out the outline of his former home. It was the last place he wanted to be, but he had to be here. With any luck, they would be in, get their target, and be out before the Imps caught wind of them.

"Incoming," came Pash's voice over the communications unit.

Darvix glanced up to his forward sensor readout. Two purple blips were making its way towards them.

"I see them," Darvix replied. "Looks like a few old Z-95 Headhunters. I'm not liking the trajectory they're taking, Lead."

"Copy that," Ace replied. "Look's like they're moving in for an intercept. You don't think our cover's already been blown?"

"Negative," Darvix said. "Zone says those markings belong to a local gang on Nar Shadaa."

The Crushers, if he wasn't mistaken. They always had the reputation of being petty thieves, willing to stop at nothing to turn a tidy profit. Judging by the flightpath the Headhunters were taking, he assumed that they were about to have a bit of a confrontation on their hands.

Moments later, Darvix's headset hissed to life again. "Attention unknown contacts. You have entered into our territory. Call off your escorts and prepare to be boarded."

"Wonderful," Myn groaned. "What's the plan?"

"Do what we do best, kiddies," Ace replied. "Lock S-Foils in attack position."

Darvix reached over to his console and keyed the attack settings for his starfighter. The sound of hydraulics filled his cockpit as the wings of his X-Wing eased into the opened position.

"Reading four hostiles," Darvix said. "Also have a lock on an older Sigma class transport. Awaiting orders."

"Split up and take them one-on-one," Ace said. "Make sure to keep them away from the escort shuttle. As long as her shields are up, the transport can't do anything."

Darvix cycled through his targeting computer before selecting a Headhunter. After running through one last system check, he threw his throttle into full and cut in front of the Escort Shuttle carrying the Rogues. His hand ran over the shield regulator, shifting the alignment to double-front. A few more moments and he'd be in range of the attackers.

He switched from lasers to Torpedo launchers, setting it to single fire. If he remembered the schematics of the Z-95 correctly, a single torpedo should be able to penetrate its shields and hull. At the very least, it would damage the starfighter enough to force the pilot to retreat. Pushing his flightstick down slightly, he centered his targeting bracket over the Headhunter.

His target began to peel away from its attack; the alarm system no doubt telling the pilot that Darvix was attempting a missile lock. Darvix adjusted his flightpath, still managing to keep the Headhunter in his brackets. For a few moments, the purple image on his display flashed yellow. The moment it turned red, he squeezed the trigger and broke off from his attack.

As Darvix spun away from the Headhunter, he saw the blue streak pierce the enemy snub. Seconds later, the aging Z-95 burst into a ball of flame.

"Scratch one," Darvix said.

"I see it, Dap," Ace replied. "Good shooting. Got a headhunter breaking away from the others, looks like it's making a run. Someone give me some cover, I'm heading after it."

"On your wing, Lead." Darvix said in turn.

Darvix edged his flightstick to the left, forming up with Ace. He slid back on the throttle, creating a bigger gap between him and his flight leader. He watched as Ace began to pour red laser fire into the Headhunter's aft. The enemy pilot had clearly forgotten the most important rule to combat flying: Never fly in a straight line. The Z-95 was an easy target for Ace. Seconds later, the shields on the headhunter failed, and the red fire began to tear away at the hull. With a bright flash, the Headhunter burst into a ball of flame.

"Attention, Crushers," Darvix said. "Recommend you abort your mission and return home. We'd rather not finish the rest of you off. Wouldn't want to scratch the paint on our lovely X-Wings."

"Acknowledged," the stranger's voice said, a hint of anger in his tone. "You haven't heard the last from us."

"Aye," Darvix replied. "Whatever you say."

With that, the last Headhunters and the transport pulled away. It was going to be a long day, Darvix mused.


	31. Behind Enemy Lines

Chapter Seven  
Behind Enemy Lines

Wedge Antilles stepped off the Lambda class shuttle, thankful to have made it to the ground safely. Getting ambushed out there was not his idea of fun, and all it had accomplished was to put the Rogues on edge. He was thankful that the escort pilots had performed admirably. With the long flight behind them, they could get to the task at hand.

Unfortunately, tracking down a single technician in the sea of sentient beings was a daunting task. Wedge was beginning to believe that taking down an entire planetary government would be an easier task. He shook his head in frustration. The Rogues were fighter pilots, not covert operatives. Yes, his men and women possessed gifted military minds, but they belonged behind the flightstick. If command insisted on sending pilots on these insane runs, why had they disbanded the Wraiths?

Command would hear about this when he got home. No more pushing General Wedge Antilles around. He had to draw the line somewhere.

"Relax, Wedge," said Janson. "You look like you're going to give yourself an ulcer."

"I'm not old enough to get an ulcer," Wedge replied.

Wes grinned, walking past him, "Keep telling yourself that, gramps."

"Oh, I'll get you for that," Wedge said. "A Corellian never forgets, and often collects interest on revenge."

Wedge watched as the four Rogues who had been flying escort stepped out of the shuttle, having changed into civilian attire. He couldn't help but cast a glance over at Darvix, who seemed to be masking his nervousness of returning home well. On the surface he appeared to fit in perfectly, as if he had never left the backwater world four years ago. The rest of the Rogues were another story. While the natives appeared to be dressed in darker tones, many of the Rogues were wearing significantly brighter outfits. They stuck out like a sore thumb. Wedge silently thanked the force that Darvix was along with them. With his help, they might be able to pull this off.

As Wedge walked off the landing pad, he spotted a Duros male walking towards them at a brisk pace. Wedge could feel the frustration bubbling within him. Not two minutes on the ground, and already they were being confronted. He just wanted to lay low and not attract attention to the Rogues. What in the name of the Force could the Duros want with them?

"I'm afraid it's going to cost you dearly to park here," the Duros said, his basic heavily accented.

"We've already paid your rates," Wedge replied calmly, "All in Imperial currency."

"Yes," the Duros said in turn, "But you vaped two of my best customers out there. That will cost you."

The frustration and anger was coming to the surface. Wedge was not in the mood to be dealing with a credit grubbing scumbag. Before Wedge could say another word, Darvix stepped in front of him, pushing him away from the Duros.

"You should tell your favorite customers to stop harassing us," Darvix said. "Otherwise you won't have many more customers to work with. Understood?"

The Duros took a step back, anger showing on the alien's face. "Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?"

What happened next surprised and, to an extent, frightened Wedge. Darvix drew his blaster, arming it and placing it under the Duros' chin. He then lowered his eye-shades, allowing the alien to see the cybernetic implants.

"D-Darvix!" the now frightened Duros stammered, "If I had known it was you I wouldn't have bothered your companion! Please, forgive me, I had no idea!"

After a few tense moments, Darvix disarmed his blaster and set it back into his hip-mounted holster.

"You know Nreeda, I'd rather not report you to the authorities for price gouging," Darvix said, a menacing tone in his voice. "Go back to work and leave us alone, unless you'd rather find my blaster shoved down your throat.

"Right away," the Duros said.

"One more thing," Darvix added. "Mention to anyone I'm here, I'll personally have your limbs severed and your torso fed to a rancor. Is that understood, Nreeda?"

"Yes, sir!" with that, the Duros scampered off the landing pad.

No sooner than the alien left, Wedge was in Darvix's face.

"What the kriff was all that about?" he demanded of the younger pilot.

Darvix shook his head, "It's the only way business can be done here. The entire economic structure is corrupt, and the only way to make anything happen is to threaten."

Wedge wanted to continue the argument, but he knew that Darvix was right. He could also see the drain that the scuffle had taken on the younger man. Darvix didn't want to act that way, he wasn't a menacing person by nature, but the situation dictated that he should be. He could have made a great intelligence operative, but Wedge was grateful that the Fighter corps had gotten to him first.

***

* * *

Darvix leaned against the railing, looking down into what was once the refugee sector. Thousands of years ago, the area had been home to countless human victims of the war between the Republic and the Sith. The conditions imposed by ruthless alien warlords had been horrible. It wasn't until an exiled Jedi came to Nar Shadaa that things began to change. The legends say that she destroyed the gangster organization that ran the refugee sector. Unfortunately, in the process, she destroyed Nar Shadaa's economic system, leaving the planet in turmoil to this very day.

He shook his head, pushing himself away from the railing. It was the Jedi's fault the world he grew up on was such a mess. It was their fault his father was dead, leaving him to raise himself on this disaster of a world. The Empire may have been wrong about many things, but at least they had the right idea about the Jedi. That cult was responsible for his own suffering, as well as countless others across the Galaxy. Damn them and their supposed Force.

Darvix continued to walk slowly through the poorly lit streets. Nothing had changed since he left four years ago. There were so many people, yet the cities and streets felt as if they had no soul. It was nothing but an urban wasteland. Even Tatooine was paradise compared to his home. He hoped the Rogues could pull this mission off quickly. He didn't want to spend a minute longer than he had to in this nightmare.

***

* * *

Corran Horn couldn't believe what he was seeing. Skywalker knew that he was on an important mission. Why was he trying to get a hold of him now? Certainly it could wait until he was back in Republic space. Sending a decrypted message back to Yavin IV was a disaster waiting to happen, but Skywalker knew the risks. If he needed to contact Corran, it must be of the utmost importance.

Making sure no one was nearly the shuttle, Corran keyed on the holonet communicator, setting the Jedi Academy decrypt codes. He let out a soft sigh as he sent the communications request. Moments later, the signal was received, and the image of Jedi Master Luke Skywalker appeared in front of him.

"I sure hope this is good, Luke," Corran said. "You have no idea how bad your timing is."

"I get that a lot," the image of Skywalker said with a smile. "I'll be brief. I need you to find something while you're on Nar Shadaa. You've been told of the legends of the Exile, I assume."

Corran shrugged, "Of course, but they're just legends."

"Maybe, maybe not," Luke replied. "I want you to keep your eyes open."

"Fine," Corran said. "But what am I looking for?"

"The usual, a lightsaber and several holocrons," Luke replied in turn.

Corran nodded, "Where should I start looking."

"The Force will guide you to them," he replied. "Keep your mind open."

Corron shook his head. Luke could be incredibly vague at times. "You have no idea where to start looking, do you?"

"Not the slightest idea," Luke said with a smile. "If that will be all-"

"Hold it," Corran said. "Have you looked into the files I sent you?"

Luke nodded a response, "I have, and it's encouraging. I want you to keep an eye on him when you get back. Report back to me as soon as you can on his status. Skywalker out."

With that, the holonet image faded out of existence. This mission suddenly became much harder for Corran. Not only did he have to track down a hiding technician, he was responsible to find some ancient Jedi artifacts that probably didn't exist. Why didn't he become a doctor like his mother wanted? Corran stood and walked out of the shuttle, wondering why life had to be so complicated at times.

Of course, the answer was simple. He was a Rogue. Complicated was in the job description.


	32. A Hive of Scum and Villainy

Chapter Eight

Tyria Sarkin poured over the terminal in front of her, cursing repeatedly. Data slicing wasn't her specialty, nor was it anywhere close to something she was competent in. NRI had promised her a trained slicer months ago to get some sort of read on the ImpNet transmissions she and her partner had been intercepting.

It was amusing, really. NRI had placed disbanded the Wraiths, sending them across the galaxy to get them out of the way. They were, after all, a group of rejects and washouts that had a tendency to get in to far too much trouble for their own good. In their eyes, it was probably best to split them up. Pay no attention to the fact that they stole an Imperial Corvette, masqueraded as Imperial pilots, and helped to bring down Warlord Zsinj.

And now, here they were, turning to two former Wraiths to track down an Imperial technician. The mission could easily determine the survival of the New Republic fighter corps, and the Republic itself. If only she could see the look on old Cracken's face. It was more than amusing, it was hilarious…in a sadistic sort of sense.

Tyria shook her head and looked back to the console, timidly letting her fingers return to the keyboard. Letting out a sigh, she hit the execute button. Moments later, the terminal began to spit out error message after error message, causing Tyria to yell out curse after curse.

Damn these terminals!

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan sat at the booth of the smoky cantina, reading over the mission parameters on his datapad. He had been so sure that getting a hold of the Phantom would have been the end of this, but here he was, on the planet he had run away from to try and track down a single Imperial technician. They couldn't even guarantee this would solve their problems.

Wedge had told him that the Republic had put the best techs on the Phantom Cheriss had piloted into friendly space. Unfortunately, they couldn't begin to scratch the surface of what made the cloaking device so effective. Everything was self-contained in the hardware, and tampering with the cloaking device itself could ruin any chances of solving the mystery.

As a trained slicer, Darvix knew exactly the problem they were facing. When slicing into a terminal, he would first attack the programs within the device. If he were to mess up, there were ways to cover his tracks and start again. When dealing with the hardware itself, one slip-up could spell disaster. One crossed cable, one blown conduit, and it was all over. The Republic couldn't afford for that to happen to the stolen Phantom, even with the immediate threat they were facing.

Which brought the Rogues here, to the armpit of the universe. Nar Shaada made Mos Eisley look like tame. There were so many beings here, it would be next to impossible to track down a single person. Which, upon reflection, is probably why the Imps had sent their precious snubfighter tech here. For a squadron that had taken down Coruscant and two Death Stars, this task should be easy. In reality, it was daunting.

So much for getting out of here quickly, Darvix thought to himself as he pushed the dark shades up the bridge of his nose to conceal the neon blue of his cybernetic eyes. We could be at this for a long time.

Just as Darvix began to look the mission data over again, he felt a strong blow to his arm

"Kriffin' Sith!" he swore aloud, glaring at the young woman next to him. "What in Vader's name was that for?"

"You've yet to say a word to me since we got here," Cheriss ke Hanadi said with a shrug. "Besides, I was bored."

Darvix huffed slightly, "Most people don't resort to violence to deal with boredom."

"Most people aren't from Adumar," She replied with a smug grin.

Cheriss infuriated Darvix at times, or perhaps, most of the time. The two of them were polar opposites. She was very serious about her work, he was considerably more laid back; She was greatly concerned about honor and the way people perceived her, and he could care less as long as he could keep flying; She enjoyed hard Corellian liquor, and he loved Alderaani white wine (Provided it was a good vintage).

Yet he was hopelessly head over heels for her, and he couldn't even begin to explain why. When they met each other, they had bickered constantly. Somewhere, sometime, something had changed between them. From that first simulator run on the Mon Remonda and the blastsword duel on the training hall mats; to the firefight at their Telosian hideout and the dramatic escape from an Imperial ambush. The two of them had come a long way in such a short time, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Darvix found that he was greatly looking forward to getting home and cashing in on some leave time.

***

* * *

Wedge glanced at his chrono. Face should be arriving at any time to haul the half of the Rogues that were with him to the safe house. He glanced over at Iella for a moment, watching as she took a sip from her mug of ale. Like any Corellian, she appreciated good synthehol, and this cantina had very good synthehol.

As he looked up, he caught sight of young Darvix and Cheriss. The young woman was leaning into Darvix, who had his arm wrapped around her shoulder. She had come a long way since he had first met her, a young and idealistic warrior bent on keeping her honor intact. He felt a pang of regret whilst watching them. He had all sort of chances to enjoy these moments when he was younger, but he had refused to tear down the emotional barriers he had thrown up.

Loosing Biggs and Jek, perhaps the closest friends he ever had, hurt him greatly when he was younger. Wedge supposed that he could attribute his mental defense to that. It was easier to close up than to be hurt like that again. It wasn't until years later he realized what it had cost him.

Wedge could have had friends, instead of alienating those he came in contact with. Perhaps his relationship with Qui wouldn't have fallen apart. It wasn't until he had completed his mission at Adumar had he realized just what all of that had cost him. They were years he could no longer get back. He was glad that Darvix and Cheriss weren't following the same path he was, but at the same time, saddened to realize the years he wasted away.

"Face should be back soon, Wedge," Iella said quietly, wakening him from his reverie. "Something on your mind?"

"Oh, nothing," Wedge mused. "Just watching those silly children."

Iella couldn't help but smile, "They couldn't hold a glowrod up to us."

"Do you discredit their youthful exuberance?" Wedge replied, grinning.

"Of course not," she said. "But you and I know experience is what counts."

Iella laughed warmly as Wedge's cheeks began to turn red.

***

* * *

A few standard hours later, Wedge's group of Rogues arrived at a run down storehouse that sat nearby a comm station. He couldn't help but let out a sigh. This hideout made their spot on Telos look like an ideal vacation home. The walls around the area were covered in blaster scoring, some of which had probably been there for hundreds of years. The buildings themselves were no where near safety codes usually pushed by Imperial governments.

Then again, this was a heavily populated alien world. What did the Imps care? If there was one thing Wedge couldn't stand, it was xeno-racism. From the brief time he had spent on Nar Shadaa, he could tell that behavior was prevalent. There was a huge rift between the alien species and the humans on the world, both economically and socially. The humans of the world had forced the aliens into what was once the refugee sectors, where humans once suffered thousands of years ago. Humans that said no living being should suffer like they should forced the alien's to live in that manner. Wedge felt anger boiling within him at the countless generations who supported such hypocrisy.

"Well, the place looks cozy," Wes mused. "I think we should take it."

"Wes," Wedge said. "Shut up."

With that, Wedge picked up his bag and stepped into the warehouse. Kell and Tyria had set up some crude sleeping accommodations for the Rogues. Well, crude may be an understatement. There were a few cots along the wall along with some tattered looking bedrolls.

Still, compared to that brief overnighter on Endor, this looked rather pleasant.

"Welcome home boys and girls," Wedge said to the other Rogues. "Face, where's Tainer and Sarkin?"

"Not sure," Face said with a shrug. "They said they would be here."

Wedge frowned and dropped his bag, walking to the other side of the warehouse and keying the door entry…

***

* * *

Tyria sighed as she poured over the terminal again. She was getting no where with this. Whoever NRI had sent, she prayed that they had someone with more slicing experience than she did. She was shaken awake from her thoughts moments later, when she felt the familiar presence of her partner behind her.

A smile crept on to her face as Kell Tainer wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into him and closed her eyes. Perhaps a break would be good about now, Force knows she needed one. Still…

"Kell, they're going to be here any minute…" she said quietly as he leaned down to kiss the nape of her neck.

"We've got time," he replied.

She opened her mouth to argue, but promptly changed her mind. Of course they still had time. NRI types had the tendency to be late. She turned around and smiled at Kell, pressing her lips softly to his…

And just then, the door behind them slid open.

"Will you two stop playing suck-face and help us settle in?" Wedge asked, grinning broadly.


	33. Hokey Religions

Chapter Nine

Corran Horn thumbed on his lightsaber, causing the silver blade to hiss to life. He let out a slow breath, allowing his mind to stretch out to the Force. A sense of calm washed over his body as his mind slowly fell in stride with the Force. Through the years, Corran had learned that being in this state of mind allowed for his actions to be much more refined. When the Force flowed through him, he knew that he could find the edge that could save his life.

He opened his eyes as reached out with the Force once more, toggling the switch on the remote in front of him. The round, metallic ball rose into the air, whirring quietly as it began to execute its programming. Corran centered the hilt of the lightsaber in front of his chest, his fingers slowly flexing around the cool metal of the blade.

The remote fired, and Corran's hands snapped downward. The red bolt hit the silver blade and was deflected towards the opposite side of the room. As fast as the first bolt had been fired, another one followed in its wake, directed at Corran's chest. He leaned his upper body away from the blast and flicked his wrists up and away from him, catching the bolt and redirecting it away from his body.

Twenty minutes had a tendency to pass by quickly when training. Just as Corran was readying himself to deflect another bolt, the remote slowly returned to the ground. He inhaled deeply as he powered off his lightsaber.

"Show-off," Wes said from behind him. "Typical Corellian, always trying to flaunt his stuff."

Corran grinned and gave Janson a friendly punch to the shoulder. A few of the Rogues had decided to get a work-out in while Wedge and Tycho went over intelligence reports. In reality, there simply wasn't much to do. Intel had failed to give the Rogues a strong set of mission parameters and data to work with, meaning they were in this mess blind.

"Yes, he's a show-off," Inyri mused, stepping away from the punching bag she and Darvix were using. "But he is good. You could learn a thing or two from him, Dap."

Darvix glared at her for a moment. He had nothing to learn from some Jedi, and she knew it.

"I don't need a lesson in luck," Darvix said, as he returned his attention back to the bag.

Corran shook his head. The boy just didn't seem to get it, or rather, didn't want to see it. "There's no such thing as luck. The Force-"

"The Force is just some tale that mothers tell their children," Darvix interrupted. "Just a romantic fantasy left over from the Old Republic."

Inyri looked between the two pilots, noting the tension rising between them. Corran may have been a veteran Rogue, but he was still prone to a short temper. Darvix was testing his nerve right now, and she knew the young pilot couldn't push Corran much further.

"Dap," Corran said. "You're a smart kid, don't play this game. I don't quite understand what happened to you that makes you hate the Jedi so much, but I can assure you whatever lies the Imps told you, it's not true.

"That assurance isn't going to bring my father back, will it Horn?"

What did the kid's father have to do with this? He had lost his own father years ago, but it had never translated into the raw hatred that was emanating from Darvix right now. Corran was beginning to wonder exactly what happened to Darvix all those years ago. For this much anger to be pent up inside the pilot…

The young Rogue was inches away from him now, a look of raw anger on his face. Corran had warned Wedge that Darvix needed a serious psych evaluation. After the incident on board the Pulsar Skate, he knew that the kid was in danger. Being a fighter jockey was stressful enough as is. Any prior trauma could spell doom for any pilot. Unfortunately, with the ever-looming threat of the Phantom starfighters, command couldn't spare anyone, even if their mental state was as frail as Darvix's.

"No, it won't," Corran replied. "Nothing will, so stop acting like an angry wookie-"

Before Corran could finish his thought, Darvix's fist landed squarely on his jaw. He stumbled backwards, only to see Darvix lunge at him, knocking him to the ground. Darvix managed to deliver several punches to Corran's face before Wes and Inyri managed to pull him off. Corran simply watched as the two dragged Darvix out of the training hall.

What in the universe had sparked that outburst? Corran asked himself.

***

* * *

"Mr. Zorvan, do I even want to know what was running through your head?" Wedge asked.

"No, sir," was Darvix's reply.

Wedge frowned, feeling his headache resurfacing. This was the absolute last thing he needed, to have Rogues at eachothers' throats while wasting away in some backwater Imp world.

"You, of course," Wedge continued, "realize that I am going to have to know what in Vader's name you were doing."

Darvix remained silent for what seemed like an eternity. This was the second time Wedge had seen emotions completely take over the young pilot's body. Months ago it had only been a simulator exercise, completely harmless. This time, he had actually struck one of his superiors with that rage.

"I can't work with him," Darvix said bluntly. "Jedi have cost me everything, and what's to stop them from doing that again?"

Wedge could only stare at Darvix. He hated to do this, he really did. Unfortunately, he had no other option now. Lives were on the line, and a loose cannon like Darvix would only put them in more danger.

"Let's get a few things straight," Wedge said, standing a few inches taller. "You are not indispensable. Horn has a proven flight record that any outfit would kill for, you have six kills under your belt. You're as good as Bantha fodder to any other squadron. I would much sooner get rid of you than to drop Corran from my roster, so understand you have no leverage regarding who you fly with.

"Furthermore, you are not going to win any friends with your anti-Jedi attitude. The Jedi were heroes of the Old Republic, and it's thanks to one Jedi that it's even possible the New Republic could have been formed. If it weren't for him, you would still be rotting away on this backwater nightmare. I don't care if you don't believe in the Force or the Jedi's ways, but understand that if you can't change your attitude, you will fail to gel into this squadron, and I will not hesitate to have you removed. Is that understood?"

It looked as if Darvix had run head-on into a Duracreet wall. The kid was a gifted pilot, and he knew it. Unfortunately, he let that knowledge run to his head far too often. Darvix had to understand his talent level alone wouldn't make him a great pilot. If he couldn't learn to work with the rest of his squadron mates, he would never become anything more than a middle-tier jockey.

"Yes, sir," Darvix replied quietly.

Wedge nodded, "Very well, dismissed Lieutenant."

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan was still fuming as he sat down behind the table. He didn't want to speak to any of the other Rogues, especially Horn. That anger drove him out of the safe-house and to a cantina a few buildings down. It didn't matter what Wedge said, the Jedi could not be trusted. That included Corran. He tapped his fingers against the tabletop as he waited for his drink to show up, silently internalizing the anger within him.

He nodded his thanks and threw a few Imp credits on to the tabletop. The Jedi had cost him his father, and he would be damned if he would be working alongside one. As soon as he returned to the Republic, he would put in for an immediate transfer to a squadron that could appreciate him. Darvix quickly tossed back the strong drink in a vein attempt to tide his anger.

"You really shouldn't drink that stuff so fast," came a human voice from behind him. "You'll burn a hole in your throat the size of a Bantha."

The stranger moved in front of Darvix and took a seat, smiling over at him. The cantina was next to empty, why was this man choosing to sit by him? Still, there was something odd about this stranger. He was taller than average, having nearly half-a-meter on the young pilot. Darvix's cybernetic eyes couldn't make out much more than the stranger's build.

"Space off," Darvix said. He found it slightly disturbing that he was settling back into a typical Nar Shadaa attitude so quickly. Still, When in Tattooine…

The stranger shook his head, "You're just as rude as when I pulled you off this rock."

"Who the kriff do you think you are?" Darvix demanded. "I can assure you I've never met you before in my-"

The realization hit him hard. He did know this man, knew him quite well in fact.

"It's funny," The stranger said. "Four years ago, you promised me that you would never come back here. What's going on, Darvix?"

"T-Trrax?" Darvix asked. "Trrax Cynedres?"


	34. Sifter

Chapter Ten

Corran Horn pulled the coldpack from his swollen jaw, grimacing slightly at the brief jolt of pain. For a little guy, Darvix sure packed a hell of a punch. For any person, Darvix sure pent up a lot of anger. Corran found that he was greatly unnerved by Darvix's latest display of temper. He had seen it before. In the simulators on the Mon Remonda, he had snapped and gone straight after an Assault Gunboat in retaliation for vaping Corran. Darvix had broken every rule in the datapad and wound up getting vaped himself.

On the flight to Telos, Darvix had suffered a psychotic breakdown while behind the stick of a Y-Wing. Hid his R2 unit not taken over control of the snub, Darvix would have flung himself headfirst into combat with a wing of Imperial TIEs. When Corran had finally pulled Darvix out of the Y-Wing cockpit, he was sobbing uncontrollably. Corran knew even without the Force that Darvix had serious mental issues to contend with

Corran had heard Myn Donos talk of his encounters with emotional breakdowns. As a Wraith, he had relived the destruction of Talon Squadron (which he used to command) while in his X-Wing. He had snapped, and nearly got himself killed. Had it not been for a brave wingman, he easily could have flown himself into the ground. A pilot in that state was a danger to themselves and those around them.

Of course, with the shortage of available pilots in the Republic, details such as mental instability had the tendency to slip through the cracks at the Academy. That's what landed Darvix with the Rogues in the first place. Since the Fighter Corps couldn't spare a pilot, they sent the most promising student at the Academy. Perhaps at another time, Darvix would have been weeded out of the Academy. He had told Wedge that Darvix probably wasn't fit for another mission, especially considering he had been shot down over Telos. Wedge had agreed, and had sent a request to Starfighter Command requesting that Darvix be placed on leave. Command refused.

Wedge had only told Tycho and Corran about the request. If Darvix were to find out, he probably would not have taken the news well. Corran couldn't help but feel that Darvix was out of place with the Rogues, and with Starfighter Command in general. He shook his head at that thought. The Rogues had given Corran a fair shot, and it was only fair they do the same for him.

"What is his problem?" Gavin asked as he took a seat beside Corran, a hot mug of caf in hand.

"Anger is a powerful force," Corran replied, "and there is a great deal of anger inside Darvix."

Inryi took the cold-pack from Corran and frowned, "He's not stable. Dap's got the potential to be a legendary pilot, but he'll never get there if he can't figure out how to get over his problems."

"He needs a psych evaluation," Corran said, nodding in agreement to Inyri.

"You know as well as I do that one psych eval could destroy his career," Gavin said. "It almost happened to Myn. As soon as you've got one evaluation on your record, squadrons won't want to touch you with a ten meter shock stick."

Unfortunately, Corran knew that Gavin was right. A pilot prone to breakdowns was a hazard to the rest of the squadron. Many squadron leaders would see something like that on a pilot's record and immediately declare them ineligible. It wasn't fair, but it was probably better to err on the side of caution.

"We're down to taking care of him ourselves," Corran said.

Gavin raised an eyebrow, "Just what do you propose we do? Give him a psych evaluation ourselves?"

"Why not?" Corran replied with a smile.

"Has it occurred to you," Inyri said, "that none of us are qualified psychiatrists? Where would we even start?"

Gavin took a sip from his mug before grinning, "Ask him about his mother? That's the stereotypical first question, isn't it?"

"That's the dumbest thing I've heard today," Inyri replied, shaking her head.

"This coming from the woman who is going steady with Wes Janson?" Gavin asked, ducking under Inyri's fist.

"Cool your repulsorlifts," Corran admonished. "We need to get Dap to talk about his childhood. Has it occurred to any of you that he hasn't spoken about his life prior to his stay on Coruscaunt?"

Other than what I forced out of him, Corran said to himself.

"That's got to be big stereotype number two," Inyri said. "Everything can be attributed to some traumatic childhood event."

"I'd like to formally point out that he grew up on this Hutt-spawn of an Imperial world," Gavin said. "I'd be shocked if he hadn't suffered some sort of traumatic, emotionally scarring, otherwise horrible event that may have permanently scarred his life."

"Gavin," Corran said. "Shut up."

The three of them were quiet for a long while. Corran knew that Darvix needed help, but not at the expense of his flying career. He had lost just about everything by defecting to the New Republic, save his talent behind the flightstick. If Darvix got the boot from the Fighter Corps, Corran knew he wouldn't be able to support himself. It would be back to the moisture farm on Tattooine, and back to a life of anonymity.

"Have any of you seen Darvix?" came Cheriss' voice from behind there, a hint of concern in her tone. "I haven't seen him in over an hour."

Corran looked at Gavin and Inyri. She was right, Darvix hadn't been seen in the compound for some time.

"You don't think…" Inyri said aloud.

"He probably did," Gavin said.

Corran stood up, reaching for his lightsaber and attatching it to his belt.

"Where do you think you're going?" Inyri demanded.

Corran looked over his shoulder, "Where do most children with hurt feelings go to for consolation?"

"Their girlfriends?" Gavin asked, only to be doubled over by Cheriss' fist to his stomach.

"Try again," Corran said, reaching for his dark jacket and moving towards the exit.

"Their mother," Inyri said. "Corran, Wedge is going to kill you if you go after him."

"Not if he doesn't find out," Corran replied. "So keep it quiet."

Cheriss ran over to Corran's side, "I'm coming with you."

Corran looked at Cheriss for a moment. It probably was pointless to try and stop her. If there was one person who could look past all of Darvix's flaws, it was Cheriss. She was head-over-heels for the kid, and nothing was going to get in her way to make sure Darvix was safe.

Besides, upsetting an Adumari woman was a very, very bad idea.

***

* * *

Darvix stared at the tall man across from him. It couldn't be him, but he was sitting before him, in the flesh. Not in his wildest dreams did Darvix ever think that he would run into this smuggler again.

"Looks like you could use another belt," Trrax said. "Barkeep, two Lomin Ale's."

The server droid at the bar gave an approximation of a nod before turning around to fetch their drinks. Darvix looked back to the smuggler in front of him. Trrax Cynedres was yet another Corellian born smuggler. Though his career had not been nearly as illustrious as another Corellian native's had been, Cynedres was well respected in his field.

Darvix had meet Trrax by an accident of sorts. As a sixteen year old, Darvix had found himself in trouble with the Imperial authorities. For several months, he had been giving aid to aliens in the refugee sector of Nar Shadaa as part of an underground smuggling ring, stealing Imperial goods and transporting them in secret. That sort of action on an Imperial controlled war was not merely a crime, but an act of treason punishable by death.

He knew he would probably be caught one day, but when his cover was blown to the Imps, he wasn't prepared for it. An Imp officer had cornered him and took Darvix into custody. For about a week he laid back in a holding cell, awaiting the inevitable. When the guard showed up to his cell one morning, he resigned himself to his death. It wasn't uncommon to forgo a trial and proceed to the punishment. Darvix wasn't even aware of the 'innocent until proven guilty' concept until he defected to the New Republic.

Darvix was shocked to find out he was being released. His mother and stepfather had been bargaining with the Imp authorities to try and negotiate his freedom. Unfortunately, the price for his freedom was steep. His parents had agreed that Darvix would disclose the smuggling ring's base of operations in exchange for an acquittal. What's worse is Darvix's parents were so furious, they were immediately sending him to the Imperial Academy for a rigorous 'character building' lesson.

The young man knew that he only had one way out of his mess. He agreed he would disclose the location, and was sent home to prepare for a long day of interrogation. That night, Darvix snuck out the back of his homestead, well aware that he was being followed by Imperial agents. He quickly made his way to the closest spaceport, which was a hot-spot for smugglers and fringe pilots. As he entered one of the hangers, the two agents jumped him.

Darvix was ready, however. Pulling out a stolen holdout blaster, he leveled the two Imp agents. In the process, he set off the spaceport's alarm system. If he didn't hide himself, and fast, he'd wind up back in a holding cell, and there would be no escaping the death penalty this time around. He made his way towards the lone freighter occupying the hanger, an aging YT-2400 Corellian transport, marked on the hull as the Corellian Star.

He forced his way inside, scrambling for the smuggling compartments he knew would be there. After a few painstaking minutes, he popped open one of the compartments and hurled himself inside, hitting his head on the way down and knocking him unconscious.

Darvix learned that he wasn't pulled out until about seven standard Coruscaunt hours later. He opened his eyes and found himself on a bed, staring up at a grey Durasteel ceiling. As he looked over, he saw the outline of the ship's pilot, a tall, muscular man that could have easily torn Darvix's head off for smuggling himself on his transport. The pilot introduced himself as Trrax Cynedres, a smuggler.

He fully expected to be thrown out of the freighter and into hard vacuum. Most fringe smugglers wouldn't take kindly to having someone smuggle themselves on board their freighter. Traxx, however, was different. The feared smuggler had a soft-spot. Children. Darvix learned that for years, Traxx had been smuggling orphaned children, mostly alien, out of Imperial controlled worlds and into Republic and neutral territories.

He had offered Darvix safe passage to any world of his choice, but Darvix refused. Despite the fact that this stranger had smuggled him, albeit unknowingly, off Nar Shadaa, Darvix couldn't bring himself to trusting the smuggler. When Trrax landed the Corellian Star at a small Outer Rim outpost, Darvix quietly left Trrax's company. He stole an X-Wing, and began his mad dash to the New Republic.

Darvix never thought he would see the smuggler again, but here they were. It was yet another link to his jaded past.

"Uh oh," Trrax murmured, "Foul company."

Darvix looked up from the tabletop, awoken from his reverie. Entering into the Cantina were armor clad stormtroopers, blaster rifles in hand. They couldn't have blown their cover already, Darvix said to himself. Still, if they got a hold of him, their cover would be blown regardless. He looked over at Trrax, a look of panic on his face.

"Take it easy," Trrax said coolly, "Just remain casual, and I'll get you out of here."

Darvix nodded. He didn't know why he was being so trusting, but he had no other alternatives. Trrax stood and walked to a nearby Sabacc table, glancing over a gamblers shoulder. Darvix tilted his head slightly, wondering what he was up to.

"Interesting," Trrax said to the gambler, "Is that a sifter you've got up your sleeve?"

Darvix couldn't help but suppress a grin. A sifter was an illegal card used to cheat in Sabacc. It could change its form to any card, giving the gambler an incredibly unfair advantage. The card could also cause riots at sabacc tables.

Trrax stepped back as one of the gamblers reached across the table to deck the man accused of using a sifter. Before long, a crowd had gathered around the table, and the Stormtroopers moved in to break up the fight. Trrax hurried back to Darvix, grabbing his arm and hurrying them out of the cantina.

"Where do we go now?" Darvix asked.

Trrax shrugged calmly, "Your guess is as good as mine."

Darvix frowned. He couldn't go back to the safehouse, not yet. The chances were too high that they'd be followed. Unfortunately, they didn't have anywhere else to go.

Well, Darvix mused, maybe we've got one place.

Darvix turned a corner and hurried down an alleyway, glancing around until he saw a familiar door. He rushed up to it and opened the access panel, keying an entry code that he hoped still work. After a few tense moments, the indicator light flashed green and the door slid open. He slipped into the house, with the smuggler right behind him. Darvix heaved a sigh, glancing around at the house.

"Who's there?" demanded a new voice. An all too familiar voice.

Darvix turned around, his neon blue cybernetic eyes gazing at the aging woman in front of him. He chose not to say anything. It was better to remain silent.

"…Darvix?" the woman asked. "but…you're supposed to be dead!"

Darvix winced slightly, staring at the woman in front of him, "I assure you, Mother…I'm quite well, for now, anyways."

End Chapter Ten


	35. Strange and Mysterious Ways

Chapter Eleven  
The Force works in strange and mysterious ways…

Corran Horn glanced around the corner, stretching out with the force to find some sort of trace of Darvix. He assumed Wedge had really dug into the kid for his antics in the training hall, and once again, Darvix overreacted. Under any normal circumstances, Corran would have done the same thing. His own temper had a tendency to get him into a great of trouble, something Skywalker was always getting on his case about. Many times, Corran had simply gone for a walk to get some air, or grab a drink to cool down.

A drink. Darvix drank with the best in the Rogues. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen another kid hold down synthehol as well as he could, though he imagined it came with the territory Darvix grew up in. Corran was willing to bet that Darvix had gone to one of the nearby cantinas to drown out his anger. He didn't need the Force to know that, just good old CorSec intuition.

He glanced over at Cheriss. The young woman usually could keep a wall about her, never betraying any emotion but indifference or sheer determination. Corran wasn't sure if he had ever seen her show this amount of concern before. Often times, he wondered what she saw in Darvix. Of course, he often wondered what Luke saw in Mara Jade, and there was definitely something there. Perhaps he wasn't the best judge of that sort of thing.

That was neither here nor there right now. All that mattered was that they find Darvix before he inadvertently blew their cover.

***

* * *

Wedge glanced around the makeshift conference table. The senior Rogue officers had all shown up, save Corran. That in and of itself was unusual, Corran was usually the first one to show up for these meetings. Wedge had to wonder if there had been more fallout from the incident in the training hall. Unfortunately, Wedge couldn't put off the meeting for much longer. He'd just have to fill in Corran later.

"Before we start," Wedge said. "Has anyone seen Corran? If not, we'll start without him."

Inyri glanced at Gavin for a moment. She knew that she should tell Wedge the truth, but Corran had been so adamant that she keep quiet. "He had some of Gavin's cooking. Needless to say, he's recuperating."

"Hey!" Gavin exclaimed, "It wasn't –that- bad!"

Wedge shook his head, "I'll put Corran in for a bravery commendation when we get home."

He took one last look around to make sure his pilots, save Corran, were there. At the far end were Hobbie and Wes, casually talking under their breath. After one comment, Wedge could see Hobbie burst into a laughing fit. Wes must have told him that new dumb Agamarian joke again, judging by the head-bobbing he was now doing. Across from them sat Tycho and Inyri, both casually reading over their datapads, trying to ignore the childish antics of Wes and Hobbie. Closer to Wedge were Pash Cracken and Ace Azzameen, as well as Iella Wessiri and Face Loran.

"Let's get going," Wedge said. "Most of you know Tyria Sarkin and Kell Tainer, two of the Wraiths prior to their disbandment by NRI." He nodded to his side, where the two intelligence agents stood.

"They've been intercepting transmissions coded with Impnet encryptions for the last month, approximately the same time in which we stole their Phantom. Partial decrypts suggest that they are being sent by a technician very close to Imperial Moff Jeris Celia.

Wedge nodded to Kell, who dimmed the lights in the room and turned on the holoprojector. The device sputtered to life for a moment, before fizzling out. Shaking his head, Kell slammed his fist into the unit, bringing it back to life. The image displayed was the schematics for the Phantom TIE Fighter.

"As you may know, attempts to find some sort of weakness to exploit in the cloaking device of the Phantom have come up short. All of the electronic commands are hard-coded into the device itself, rather than having a software package do the work. Our tech's can't risk tampering with the cloaking device, which brings us here.

The image on the holoprojector changed. Now displayed was the visage of a young human male, probably no older than thirty. His blonde hair, blue eyes, and chiseled jaw line could have made this man the poster boy for Imperial recruiting.

"Ms. Sarkin, if you'd please," Wedge said, taking a seat behind the table.

Tyria nodded and looked towards the men and women seated before her, "The man you see before you is Kelin Sokyr of Seinar Fleet Systems. Sokyr was the head conceptual technician on the Phantom D-34 project, primarily involved with the implementation of the cloaking device itself. He's been placed here in order to remain out of the eye of the Republic. Unfortunately for the Empire, they didn't realize two NRI agents were stationed here long before he arrived.

"We've managed to narrow down the transmission source to the Refugee sector of Nar Shadaa, the perfect place for someone to hide. No one in their right mind would go in there-"

"And we most certainly are not in our right mind," Wes added.

Tyria rolled her eyes, "Unfortunately, the refugee sector is compromised of about one-hundred square kilometers. We're going to have to go down there ourselves to narrow down the search field."

"I assume," Ace said, "that we're not sending everyone down?"

Tyria nodded her response, "Correct. We don't want to draw too much attention to ourselves. After this meeting, we'll discuss who we'll send down there to accomplish a few goals. First and foremost will be establishing a new safehouse, which we will slowly regroup to. Second, they will acquire any possible information as to where the transmissions are coming from. If they discover the location, we'll make plans from there."

Wedge stood back up as the lights came back on, "We begin this phase tomorrow at 2200 hours. Until then, fill in the rest of the Rogues and get some rest. We're in for a long few days. Dismissed."

Now to find out what's going on with Horn, Wedge said to himself.

***

* * *

Corran exited the smoky cantina and glanced around again. He knew Darvix had been here recently. The only question was where he had gone since then. Corran closed his eyes and stretched out with the Force once more. It was difficult, but he could faintly sense what was almost a trail, a path Darvix had taken. Corran breathed out slowly and began to journey down a dark alley near the cantina.

"Corran," Cheriss said quietly, "I don't understand why Darvix seems to hate your people so much. Surely he can see the great honor and devotion to Justice the Jedi have."

Corran couldn't help but smile faintly. Despite the years she had spent away from her home on Adumar, Cheriss ke Hanadi still had the occasional problem of seeing past the veil of honor.

"We may be honorable," Corran replied, "but Darvix grew up on a world where the Jedi were hated. The Empire taught the masses that Jedi were nothing but…warmongers, political manipulators, and child killers. Emperor Palpatine took the actions of a few misguided Jedi, and portrayed them all in that light."

"Darvix is an intelligent man," Cheriss said. "He must be able to see through those lies."

Corran shook his head, "Intelligence and wisdom are two different things. Darvix is very bright, but he has an incredibly difficult time letting go of the past. Sometime, somewhere in his childhood, something happened that turned him against the Jedi…I wish I knew what it was, though."

He suddenly stopped in his tracks, turning to face the backdoor to a small homestead. Darvix was in here, he knew it. Why here? Corran smiled once more. The answer was fairly obvious. He was joking when he said it to Inyri, but it made perfect sense. Darvix had run home to his mother. It was a human instinct to do that when threatened.

"I don't suppose you have any slicing skill," Corran said to Cheriss, who simply shook her head in response.

Corran prayed that old course he took in CorSec was still with him. He opened the panel and began to key in a few commands. As soon as he touched the first button, the door hissed open. Certainly he wasn't –that- good at slicing.

"I don't see any point in turning you away," the voice of Darvix said. "Come on in before you blow our cover."

***

Corran stood up and walked out of the room Darvix had set him up in. It was well past 0100 Coruscaunt Standard, but he couldn't fall asleep. Perhaps it was the anxiety of finding out that Darvix had nearly been caught by Stormtroopers, or being separated from the rest of the Rogues for the night. It was too risky to return back to the safehouse, at least at this point. Darvix had suggested waiting it out here.

Still, Corran knew something else was bothering him, tugging at the back of his mind. As he turned around to look back into his temporary room, he caught the silvery glint of his lightsaber hilt. Suddenly it came to him.

"The Force will guide you to them," Luke's words echoed his thoughts. "Keep your mind open."

As if in a trance, Corran walked quietly through the hallway, making sure not to wake up anyone else in the house. He found himself in front of another door. He carefully keyed it open and stepped in, glancing around. It was a trophy room of sorts. Medals and awards were plastered all over the walls…apparently Darvix had been a rather athletic kid growing up. Most of the awards were from various sports he had played, shockball as well as a few Corran had never heard of.

In the far end of the room, tucked up in the corner, Corran saw a small footlocker. Slowly, he walked towards it, kneeling in front of the container. He keyed the lock release and opened the lid, gazing in to it. What he saw should have shocked him, but it didn't. All it served as was a confirmation to his suspicions. Inside of the footlocker was a flowing brown robe and several data holocrons.

As well as one worn, but fully functional, Jedi lightsaber. At that moment, Corran knew that his feelings about Darvix were dead-on.


	36. Beware of Additional Personnel

Chapter Twelve  
Beware of Additional Personnel

By 0600 Corran was set to depart from the homestead. As far as he was concerned, the sooner he was back with the rest of the Rogues, the better. He had taken a big risk in going after Darvix, but after his find last night, he knew it was worth the danger. Corran had taken care to hiding the contents of the footlocker with his own gear. Skywalker had been right to assume the artifacts were here, but Corran hadn't expected to find them with such ease. Luke would be ecstatic to get the holocrons to put in the Library. He was sure these new findings would give Skywalker enough reason to investigate Darvix.

It was somewhat ironic. Here was a young flyboy who hated the Jedi and everything they stood for, yet, Corran knew the truth. Months ago, Corran had put Darvix into a force-induced hypnosis after the young pilot had suffered an emotional breakdown on the way to Telos. The moment he reached out with the Force to calm the young pilot, Corran felt something unusual. For a long while, Corran had dismissed it as nothing more but a trick of the mind.

Darvix had told the Rogues about his miraculous bailout in the space above Telos. With his intertial compensator shot, he couldn't reach for the ejection lever. Just as he was about to give up, the lever flew forward. Darvix had attributed the ejection to sheer luck, it must have been an electrical short that allowed him to bail out. Corran knew better, however. There was no such thing as luck.

Especially for a Force-sensitive like Darvix.

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan woke up with a start, bolting upright. He had been having the same blasted dream since he found out the Rogues were heading to Telos. It was the same every time, the little alien girl in front of him, a blaster in his hand, and every time, he pulled the trigger. The actual event had happened years ago, but the images were still so vivid in his mind. He noticed that his breathing was somewhat hurried. As he tried to calm himself, his non-mechanical hand slowly clenched and unclenched. Darvix knew it shouldn't bother him anymore, the boy in his dream holding that blaster was long dead, replaced with the man who flew for the Republic, putting his life on the line to protect the freedom of countless species.

Darvix laid back down, resting his head on his pillow and turning on to his side. For a moment, he was startled to see a young woman in bed next to him, nestled right up against him. His nerves settled down as he realized it was only Cheriss. There weren't enough beds in the house, so Darvix had offered his to Cheriss. When she refused to remove Darvix from his own bed, the two got into a bit of a quarrel. In the end, both were so exhausted they had chosen to share it.

He couldn't quite believe how lucky and fortunate he was. In the middle of war-time, he had fallen in love with a young woman who felt the same way towards him. Sure, she could be rude and abrasive, but she could fend for herself. Darvix admired that in her. Perhaps that's one thing he was looking for in a partner. The life of a fighter pilot was dangerous, and the life expectancy of a pilot reflected that danger. He could take solace in the fact that if anything happened to him; he knew she would have the strength to carry on.

Still, he longed to be able to see her with real eyes, not the cybernetic machines he was forced to cope with. Darvix wished he could see her as she really was, not just the blue outline with faint features that his robotic eyes saw. It was just another reason to hate the Imperials. Had those warlords and moffs not stockpiled Bacta during the Krytos scare, Darvix would still have his eyes.

Cheriss stirred slightly, her eyes opening. She smiled faintly and looked to Darvix.

"Dap?" she asked quietly.

"Hm?" he replied.

"Eyes up here," she admonished with a faint grin, pointing to her face. Darvix blushed furiously as he realized he had been staring at her chest for the last ten minutes.

***

* * *

Darvix adjusted the collar on his black coat and leaned against the backdoor of his home. As he waited for Corran and Cheriss, he caught a glimpse of his mother gazing at him. For a long while, the mother and son stared at each other, at a loss for words. Darvix had learned that the Imperial authorities (by piecing together security footage and transmissions from TIE Fighters) had informed his mother that he had been shot down over Telos and was presumed dead.

"You're a Rebel now," she said softly. "I should have never listened to your father…I'm sorry I insisted on sending you to the Imperial Academy."

Darvix shook his head with a frown, "My father was killed by the Jedi before I could know him. The man you claim is my father is nothing more but a slave to a dead Emperor."

"Where did I go wrong, Darvix?" she asked with a sigh. "I did everything I could to try and help you become a loyal citizen of the Empire."

For a long while, Darvix thought about her words. With everything she had ever done to him, no matter how terrible, she did it for his own good. He had never thought of her actions in that light. Even when she had ordered him to go to the Imperial Academy, she was doing it to save him from trouble.

"It wasn't you, mother," Darvix replied. "It was the lies the Empire told you, told me, told everyone. I know you can't see the truth here, I didn't see it until I was on the other side of the fence…but, thank you for trying to help me."

Even through his cybernetic eyes, he could tell his mother looked crestfallen. This was her last chance to try and save her son from the 'evil clutches' of the Rebel Alliance. Darvix knew that she felt as if her actions were what drove him away. She deserved to know that it wasn't her fault.

"It wasn't you," he said calmly. "I had to leave for other reasons…"

The vivid images of his recurring nightmare flooded back into his mind. He suppressed a lump rising in his throat and looked his mother square in the eyes.

"I had to leave to make up for the horrible things I did here."

A voice came from down the hall. Corran was probably ready to go. Darvix shouldered a duffelbag filled with clothes and moved away from the door. As he stepped past his mother, he looked at her once more.

"Are you going to turn us in?" he asked.

She shook her head in resignation, "I've done enough damage… Don't get yourself hurt, Darvix."

He smiled faintly and gave his mother a quick peck on the cheek before walking down the hall. As she watched her son walk away, she felt a pang of regret. She should have told him the truth.

***

* * *

"The streets are pretty busy this time of the day," Darvix said, glancing at his wrist chronometer, "so we should be able to blend in without much of a problem."

In the small kitchen around a table were the three Rogue pilots, as well as the Corellian smuggler Trrax Cynedres. The smuggler had offered his services when he found out Darvix and his co-pilots were from the Republic. For years, he had been smuggling orphaned children out of Imperial controlled worlds and into Republic or neutral territory. His travels had often brought him to Nar Shadaa, where the poverty level was high. Corran had been furious when Darvix bluntly said that they needed to bring the man with them, but he couldn't talk the younger pilot out of his decision on the matter.

"For the record," Corran said, "You're an idiot for compromising security by bringing him along."

"For the record," Darvix replied, "Your CorSec roots are starting to annoy me. I haven't been on-world since I was sixteen, and Trrax has been making smuggling runs through here since I left. He knows the terrain and the people better than I do. We'd be fools for passing him up."

The Corellian finally spoke up, "Of course, who knows, I could decide to report the lot of you to Imperial Security if you don't bring me along."

Corran looked as if he had been hit over the head with a duracreet brick. There was no way he could talk the stubborn kid out of this idiotic idea. He looked over to Cheriss, who simply shrugged.

"I think he's right," she said.

Corran shook his head, "You're only saying that because you're going out with him."

"Sure," she said with a smile, "But he's still right."

The older Rogue sighed and nodded his defeat. It was going to be a long day.

***

* * *

Corran walked slowly through the crowd, making sure to stick somewhat close to Darvix. Despite everything he said, Corran could tell that the kid was in his element here. The moment he set foot on Nar Shadaa, his entire demeanor changed. Back on the Mon Remonda he was like any of the other pilots, outgoing and humorous. He had his strange quirks, such as the uncanny ability to quote all sorts of useless trivial knowledge on a whim, but Darvix fit in with the squadron. Here on this backwater world, he was a completely different person. He was quiet and far more reserved, and every time Corran saw him, he could feel a fiery determination within the pilot.

"The moment I met him," Trrax said, "I had him pegged to be a pilot. He'd spend hours in the cockpit of my freighter while we were in hyperspace, his hands on the flightstick and controls. It's a shame he joined the Republic. He could have been one hell of a smuggler."

Corran frowned, "Just how is it that you know Darvix?"

"He's one of the children I smuggled off-world and in to the New Republic," Trrax replied. "Well, close to the New Republic, anyways. I made a stop at an Outer Rim outpost, and before I knew it, the kid had hotwired an X-Wing and was making his own dash for freedom."

"Well, the kid does like to do things by himself," Corran mused. He continued to walk on in silence for a few moments, looking up at Darvix. Cheriss was leaning against him, and he had his arm wrapped around her. They were an odd couple, but then again, so were Mirax and himself.

Corran looked up at the black sky for a moment, "Did he ever talk about his family much?"

"Darvix?" Trrax asked. "I really had to pry it out of him, but yes, he did. He never did speak much of his stepfather and mother much. There was a lot of resentment towards them because they were about to send him to the Imperial Academy…however, hid did always talk fondly about his biological father."

Corran nodded. He had known that Darvix's father had died when he was very young, but he had never told Corran how he died…not that he could blame him.

"The only thing I can remember was how he said his father died," the smuggler said. "His mother told him that he was killed by the Jedi."

Logically, it made sense Corran right then. All of that resentment towards the Jedi was because of the death of his father. The artifacts he had found at Darvix's home must have belonged to the Jedi that killed him. Darvix's family must have avenged the death of the father by taking the life of a Jedi. Still, something about the story wasn't adding up. There was a missing detail, and Corran knew it. That detail would be tugging at the back of Corran's mind until he figured it out.

"Do you believe that?" Corran asked the smuggler.

"That the Jedi killed his father?" Trrax replied. "Not for a minute. It just doesn't make sense."

Corran frowned once more. He had more investigating to do.


	37. The Holocron

Chapter Thirteen

Wedge shook his head and sighed in resignation. "Would you care to explain just what happened last night?"

As Darvix opened his mouth to speak, Corran cut him off.

"It's my fault," the older pilot said. "The holocameras were picking up some strange activity a few blocks from here, and since Darvix was a native, I asked him to go check it out. I didn't expect him to be ambushed by a few Stormies. Rather than risk them tracing him back here, he found an alternate place to spend the night, until he could merge with street traffic in the morning."

Darvix wasn't really sure if he was hearing things correctly. Had Corran just covered up for his own idiotic stunt the prior night? He had not only attacked the veteran pilot's beliefs, he had physically assaulted him. In his own anger, he left the safehouse and went to get a drink, only to get himself ambushed by stormtroopers. Had it not been for the Corellian smuggler he ran in to, he could have blown the entire mission for the Rogues before it even began. In a panic, he had run home to his mother. Still, it didn't make sense. Why was a Jedi covering for him?

"After he failed to report back in, I went to look for him, bringing Cheriss for support," Corran continued. "We made contact with him, and remained in hiding until morning."

Wedge nodded, "Now, why is the smuggler still with us?"

The tall Corellian, leaning against a far wall and staring up at the ceiling, shrugged, "What can I say? I was drawn by the beauty of your female agent."

Darvix shot Trrax Cynedres a look that could kill. As long as Darvix had known him, Trrax had never taken life seriously. It was a wonder he was still alive. Despite the smuggler's nonchalant attitude, Darvix was sure he would prove to be a vital addition to this mission. All that was left was to convince Wedge to keep him around.

"Darvix insisted that we bring him with us," Corran said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"This true, Dap?"

Darvix nodded his reply, "First and foremost, he's a security risk if we let him go. It would be in the best interest of the mission and our safety to keep him around."

"Logical conclusion," Wedge admitted.

"Second, he's been on world more recently than I have. Even though I'm a native, it's still been over four years since I was here last. Trrax has a better feel for this area than I do, especially the refugee sectors."

Wedge's ears perked at the last statement. If this smuggler was familiar with the refugee sector, he could prove to be an incredibly valuable addition to this mission. Sarkin and Tainer didn't have very much information to work with on that area of Nar Shadaa. This smuggler could accelerate the mission greatly, and that meant he had the potential to save the Rogues from doom.

"I see," Wedge replied. "He can stay."

Corran looked as if he had just swallowed some of Wedge's infamous roasted Taun-Taun. He couldn't believe Wedge was actually serious about keeping this no-name smuggler around, let alone allowing him to help on this sensitive mission.

"With all due respect," Corran said, "You've gone off the deep end!"

Wedge smiled and shrugged, "Can you blame him? Cheriss is a rather attractive young woman."

Corran opened his mouth to argue, but changed his mind as he realized all of his efforts would prove fruitless. Shaking his head, he turned around walked out of the makeshift office.

"Sorry about that," Wedge said to the smuggler across the room. "You know those CorSec types."

***

* * *

  
Several hours later, Lane "Ace" Azzameen and his crew were on board an aging skimmer heading towards the refugee sector. It had been a long journey for him to join the Rogues. In the days of the Rebellion post Hoth, he had joined after his father and brother were killed by an Imperial ambush as they were delivering badly needed Bacta to a Rebel outpost serving as a hospital. Always a natural with the flightstick, Ace had applied for Starfighter command. In those days, there was no Academy. The desperate need for pilots thrust him right into the fire. His 'evaluation exercise' was actually a hit and run on an Imperial cruiser. After that first mission, he had logged six kills, making him an instant ace. He remembered each of the skirmishes he fought in vividly, from his first assault on an Imperial convoy, to his daring flight to steal the Shuttle Tydirium, and to his horrifying time behind the gunner turret of the Millenium Falcon as they attacked the Death Star.

After Endor, Ace had been reassigned to Rebellion Intelligence, fitting for a young kid who had gotten praise from the Bothan SpyNet for his reconnaissance and sabotage work on Imperial communications. He had spent a good part of his life post-Endor on Imperial controlled worlds, and not just the usual backwater planets. One of his first assignments was on Coruscaunt, prior to its fall into Rogue Squadron's hands. He wasn't there for the overthrowing of the government itself, for he had been replaced on planet by Iella Wessiri and transferred to another project. Still, he missed the feeling of the flightstick and throttle in his hands. Being reassigned into Rogue Squadron was one of the greatest moments of the man's life.

Ace glanced out the transparisteel window if the skimmer and shook his head. It was all so reminiscent of what he had seen on Coruscaunt. On the higher levels were the well-to-do classes, benefiting from the suffering of the poor people below them, usually alien species forced to retreat into hiding. It was no different here on Nar Shadaa. The living conditions were terrible. All around them were shanties that were about as structurally sound as Janson after one too many shots of Corellian brandy.

"Lovely little place, eh Dap?" Wes asked the young Lieutenant in front of him.

Darvix shook his head, his cybernetic eyes making a soft whirring sound as they looked away from the windows. "I've never been down here, but I've heard stories. It was taboo even to talk about this place."

Inyri Forge, checking her holdout pistol, nodded. "Much like InviSec on Coruscaunt."

"From everything I've read and heard," Darvix said, "This place is worse."

At one end of the skimmer sat the Corellian smuggler, who up to this point had been silent. "This place has a history of corruption."

Ace looked over at Cynedres, "What can you tell us?"

"Nothing very pleasant," Cynedres said, sitting more upright. "Thousands of years ago, this was actually a refugee sector for humans scattered by the Mandalorian wars. The gangs in this area were the local government for them, aliens who despised the humans. They made life a living hell. Unfortunately, after Palpatine took control of the senate, life here had an about face."

Ace nodded his understanding, "The tides turned."

"Precisely," Cynedres replied. "The humans still on world felt empowered to take over the planetary government. A coup was staged, and the human species on this world gained control of the planet. Their first order of action was to inflict revenge. They rounded up aliens and forced them into the Refugee sectors, where they once suffered. Those who refused were killed."

At those words, Darvix felt a pang of guilt rush through him. The little Twi'lek girl in front of him, with his blaster drawn. He had met the aliens who refused. He had killed the aliens who refused. Just another link connecting him forever to the tyranny the Empire had inflicted upon countless souls.

"How hard is it going to be to find someone down there?" Ace asked, breaking Darvix's reverie.

The smuggler shook his head, "Next to impossible. There's hundreds of millions of people crammed into a one-hundred square kilometer area. Our only hope is to find someone that looks out of place. Ten credits are that person is this technician you're searching for."

"We'll take that into advisement," Ace said. "We're about thirty minutes from the drop-off. Remember, we need to stay low, and not draw attention to ourselves. I'm looking at you, Wes."

"You wound me," Wes replied with heavy sarcasm.

"You'll wound us with your antics," Ace quipped.

"Ten points, Azzameen," Inyri replied, only to earn a glare from Wes.

"You're sleeping on the sofa when we get home," Wes said.

"No I'm not," Inyri replied with a smile

Wes' shoulders slumped in defeat, "There's no way to beat a woman. They're worse than the Dark side of the Force."

"Yes, we are," Inyri replied warmly.

"Janson, Forge?" Ace asked.

Wes looked over at the group commander, "Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Yub Yub, Major," Inyri said with a grin.

***

* * *

Corran Horn had a bit of downtime, or rather, indefinite downtime. Until the advance party sent word back, the Rogues were pretty much confined to the safehouse. Boredom was high, and Corran thought he might have to put himself into a coma to save his sanity. As he was walking to his temporary bunk, realization hit him. He had yet to examine the holocrons that he had recovered from Darvix's home. He quickly retrieved them, and retreated to a somewhat private terminal to examine the data hidden within the devices.

He wired the aging holocron into the terminal and powered it on. Corran skimmed through the data, searching first for a name to tie in with this unnamed Jedi who had died on this world. He clicked on a logfile, and waited while it loaded. Skywalker would be pleased to get this information into the Jedi archives on Yavin IV. With a click, the screen displayed the first lines in a lengthy journal. Corran glanced at the first words, and stared in a semi-state of shock.

In bold letters, the journal was labeled as the property of one Derik Zorvan.

The final pieces of the puzzle finally fell in to place for Corran.


	38. Drive of a Starfighter Pilot

Chapter Fourteen

"I simply find it amusing," the holo image of Luke Skywalker said, "that you're the one risking mission integrity by opening up communications."

Corran Horn shook his head, "I've analyzed the holocrons I found. They belong to the kid's father."

The image of Luke Skywalker nodded in understanding, "This confirms your assumptions about Mr. Zorvan then."

Thank you, oh Master Obvious, Corran grumbled to himself. "This is why I tried to lobby Wedge into keeping him back home. He's so quick to anger, and in a place like this, we could loose him to the Dark Side before we even begin. What in the galaxy am I supposed to do?"

"Put yourself in his position," Luke said. "Would you want to know the truth about what happened to your father?"

"I really don't see why-"

"Of course you don't," Luke replied. "You know exactly what happened to your father, you were there when he died. All Darvix has been told are lies and deceptions. Don't you think you owe it to him to give him the truth?"

Corran sighed in resignation. Once again, Skywalker was right. If he were Darvix, he would want to know about this information, and he would want to know about it right there and then. It would be better to hear this information coming from a fellow Rogue, than to have it come from someone else.

"I get the holoimage," Corran said. "I tell him, and I'm assuming you'd want me to tell him sooner rather than later-"

"Now you're catching on," Luke said with a smile.

"But what do we do with him after that?"

Luke looked thoughtful for a moment, before raising up his eyes once more, "You apprentice him. You're right, Corran. He's in extreme danger of falling away from us based on where he is now. You are the only person who can keep him on the straight and narrow, whether he likes it or not. He must learn the ways of the Force quickly, to keep him from falling to the Dark Side."

Corran could only stare at the image of Luke for a moment. Was he crazy? Suggesting that he teach Darvix the truth was mad. The vocal young man was always critical of Corran, and the Jedi in general. How would it sound, coming from him? By the way, Darvix. You're father was actually a Jedi, and you are too. Surprise!

"Trust in the Force," Luke admonished. "Keep your pathways open, and you'll be able to bring Darvix around."

Corran nodded, "I'll send you a detailed report once I'm out of here. Tell Mara I said hi."

"Trying to imply something, Horn?" Luke asked, an eyebrow arched.

With a grin, Corran shook his head, "Of course not. Horn out."

***

* * *

"…And so, I formally request permission to go through with this hair-brained, idiotic, but nevertheless, completely vital solo mission," Corran said, standing tall in front of Wedge Antilles.

"Of all the people," Wedge replied. "It's you. Honestly, I can see Myn, Gavin, or even Inyri wanting to do something like this, but you? Have you been hanging around Wes too long? Is this what we're like after we get married? Gluttons for abuse?"

"Can I go after him or not?" Corran asked bluntly.

Wedge sighed once more. Only a few days into this death trap of a mission, and Wedge was sure he'd need a psych evaluation by the time he got home. Well, him and the rest of his squadron. Corran had just asked for permission to go after Darvix, citing his mental stability issues, but Wedge knew Corran was holding details back from him.

"I'll consider it," Wedge said, "if you tell me why the hell you're really going after him."

For a moment, Corran wondered if he really was that transparent. With a mental shrug, he chalked it up to Wedge's years as a commanding officer.

"Would you prefer the bluntly honest version?" Corran asked.

"Please."

"Very well," Corran said, taking a deep breath. "Darvix is a force-sensitive, his father was a Jedi, and Luke's worried he'll fall to the Dark Side."

For what seemed like an eternity, Wedge simply stared at Corran. It was official; his most stable officer had gone off the deep end. "Okay, perhaps more background is in order."

"I've been suspicious of Darvix since Telos," Corran said. "He's had so many lucky breaks, we can't even attribute it to Luck-Of-The-Rogue syndrome."

Luck-Of-The-Rogue syndrome was an old running joke within the pilot ranks of Rogue Squadron. As a whole, the pilots had a tendency to get themselves out of the nastiest situations, believing that Rogue Squadron was inheritably lucky.

"Something about him always seemed to puzzle me," Corran said, "So I sent his records off to Skywalker shortly after Darvix was returned to active duty. Add to that, while I was laying low at the kid's homestead, I…acquired… a few interesting artifacts, that Luke told me I would find here. A lightsaber, and a few holocrons, belonging to one Derik Zorvan."

Wedge couldn't help but keep the surprise from showing on his face. Corran had kept these suspicions to himself until this point, and the rest of the Rogues couldn't have possibly pegged Darvix as being a Force sensitive.

"Luke has suggested going after him, then?" Wedge asked.

Corran nodded an affirmative "I need to find him as soon as I can."

"Alright," Wedge said, sighing in defeat, "I can't argue with Luke's knowledge and insight, as much as I'd love to. Get going as soon as you can."

"Thank you, sir," he said, turning on his heels.

"And Horn?"

Corran looked back at Wedge. "Don't get yourself killed. I don't want to deal with the wrath of Mirax."

"I wouldn't wish that on anyone, General."

***

* * *

"Really, love," Wes said. "I'm not sure if this place is very conducive to raising children."

"Don't be getting ahead of yourself, flyboy," Inyri replied.

Ace glanced around at the interior of the old building. To say it was run-down was an understatement. This structure must have been constructed several thousand years earlier, and from what Ace could gather, it had once been a simple housing complex of sorts. Amazingly enough, the ancient plasteel walls had held up, and for the most part, the structure was still in tact. The Rogues would set up shop here to begin the next phase of the mission

"Let's get a few generators and terminals set up," Ace ordered. "Soon as we can, send these coordinates to the Rogues with our new encryption keys."

"It's going to take some time for them to de-encrypt that message," Darvix said.

Prior to leaving, Ace had devised a new encryption system that was geared to help protect their transmissions. They would be using certain coding from other encrypt keys, as well as older ones, to send data transmissions. Doing this made it harder for the enemy to decrypt vital transmissions, but also required that more time be spent on their own end to be able to read these files. Unfortunately, it was absolutely vital that they protect the integrity of this location.

"Do it," Ace said. "We can't risk it."

***

* * *

Within a few hours, everything had been set up, and it was a matter of waiting for the rest of the group to arrive at the new safe house. Ace Azzameen took another bite out of his ration bar before glancing back at his datapad, returning his attention to the novel he had been reading. When he had been reassigned to the Rogues, he couldn't have imagined that he'd be doing more intel work. He was itching to get himself back behind the flightstick again.

"Major," asked the voice of Darvix, "Could I ask you something?"

"For the last time," Ace said, "No formalities when talking to me. Just Ace. And yes, what can I do for you, Dap?"

"What was it like?" Darvix asked. "The Death Star, I mean."

"In one word, frightening," Ace said. "I'm just glad I was in the capable hands of General Calrissian. Most of us had resigned ourselves to death by agreeing to take on the assault at Endor, but we were determined to go through with it…I remember flying an A-Wing in an escort mission to rally the fleet at Sullust. It was amazing, I'll tell you that. Hundreds of thousands of men and women, ready to give their lives to end the tyranny of the Empire were gathered together.

"I knew before the mission that I wouldn't be able to fly. At the time, I was still one of the youngest pilots in the fleet, so I wasn't surprised when my X-Wing was reassigned to a veteran pilot. I was still so determined to fight; I actually volunteered to man the topside gunner turret of the Millennium Falcon. I remember when the General ordered us to fly in to the Executor. I was sure I was going to meet my end by one of her turbolasers.

"It wasn't until we were in the Death Star itself that I truly felt helpless. The tunnels were too tight, so I couldn't safely fire the turrets without hitting one of our own. I went up to the cockpit and helped feed sensor data to Wedge. We almost died in the way out, you know. The General only barely managed to coax enough speed out of the Falcon to get us out of the blast radius of the Death Star."

"I lost a lot of friends that day," Ace said, "but I know their deaths weren't for a lost cause. The Empire truly died that day at Endor. Even now, they're reeling from the death of Vader and Palpatine."

Darvix wondered idly why Ace never got that much credit for his heroics at Endor. If he had been flying a snubfighter, would he have gotten the hero status he so richly deserved?

"I'm not sure if I could ever do anything like that," Darvix said quietly.

Ace shook his head, "When you know what you're fighting for, you can brave through anything."

It was a sobering thought, Darvix realized. Ace knew what he had fought for then, and knew why he fought now.

"The question is," Ace continued, "why are you fighting, Darvix?"

Darvix didn't know the answer. Was he fighting for revenge against the Empire? Was he fighting to redeem his image, so he could finally forgive himself for the things he had done?

"I don't know," Darvix said humbly.

"You'd best figure it out soon," Ace said. "A warrior without drive is a danger to himself, and his friends.


	39. Revelation

Chapter Fifteen  
Revelation

"Any response back from Gamma Detachment?" Ace asked, glancing over Inyri's shoulder to read the data displayed in her terminal.

"Negative," Inyri replied.

Before Ace and his small group of Rogues left Nar Shadaa's upper levels, they had formally split in to two teams. Ace, along with Inyri, Wes, Darvix, and the Corellian smuggler Trrax Cynedres, were designated Flying Ewok group…much to Ace's chagrin. Unfortunately, there was no stopping Major Wes Janson when he had his mind set. He'd probably have better luck beating Han Solo at sabacc.

"How long do you estimate it will take for them to fully decode it?"

Inyri could only offer a shrug, "Through some idiotic oversight, the only slicer available to the Rogues is here with us. Without Dap, it could take Gamma Group another forty-eight standard hours before it's fully decrypted, providing that they don't take beaks to use the 'fresher, and they forsake sleep."

Ace blinked and feigned mock confusion, "Sleep? I don't believe I'm familiar with your terminology, Lieutenant."

"It's like drinking yourself to unconsciousness," Inyri said. "But when you finally come to, you feel better than when you blacked out.

"I shall have to try this at some point."

"I strongly recommend it," Inyri replied.

***

* * *

Darvix raised his vibrosword, centering the hilt on his chest. As a young teenager, he had learned to duel with blades, and wasn't ashamed to admit that he was good at it. At Starfighter Academy, he had failed his hand blaster exams, simply because he couldn't see well enough to hit any of the targets. It was another story entirely in meleé blade combat. His quick hands made him a tournament champion at the Academy.

He slashed across his body, the blade making a soft whooshing sound as it sliced through the air. Darvix took pride in his ability to control the vibrosword. To him, it was a dying art, and he knew he was one of the last that still practiced it. He took one hand off the blade, holding his arm behind his body for balance as he held the blade forward. Quick hands, quick feet, and strong balance, he told himself. All the skills a warrior must possess. Growing up, Darvix knew he wasn't the strongest, and definitely knew he wasn't the tallest. He was never discouraged, choosing instead to hone the skills available to him.

Even the technique he used as he dueled displayed his strengths. His movements were brief and crisp. The attacks were fast, and came in flurries. If he couldn't overpower his opponents with brute strength, he would swamp them with his speed. After each quick slash, the young pilot would move his feet into a new location, keeping his imaginary foe guessing as to where he would be next. Darvix had learned how to randomize his movements long ago, so his attacker couldn't guess what he would do next. All of his attacks were performed with only his right hand. As he slashed at air, his left hand would remain behind him. He had long felt this style promoted his agility and speed.

Darvix was mildly surprised to see he had been practicing for nearly an hour. He couldn't remember the last time he had spent this long with his vibrosword. While at the Academy, he had retreated to the exercising chambers to duel in an effort to blow off steam. Towards the end of his tenure there, no other cadets would duel with him for fear of embarrassment. He would have to make it a point to talk to Cheriss in the near future, for he knew she would make a formidable opponent.

Of course, he'd have to go easy on her. The wrath of a woman was a scary thing indeed.

"You've got a slight stutter step when you move right," came a new voice in the room.

Darvix spun on his heels, only to see Corran Horn staring at him.

"Vader's Bones!" Darvix cursed, "What the hell are you doing here? Gamma group hasn't even decoded the message yet!"

"We need to talk, now," Corran said bluntly, his eyes boring into Darvix's.

Though his mind screamed at him just to ignore the Corellian, something else within Darvix recognized how grave this was. Corran had left the rest of the Rogues, and had pursued him alone. Had something topside gone horribly wrong?

"Alright, what do you need?" Darvix asked.

Corran motioned for the younger pilot to follow, "You're going to need to sit down for this."

***

* * *

"This had better be good," Darvix muttered.

Corran shook his head and sat down behind the makeshift conference table. From his bag, Corran pulled out an aging holocron, setting it on the table, "Do you know what this is?"

Darvix shrugged, "It's an old holocron, Old Republic era I'd assume. I really don't-"

"I found this at your home," Corran said, cutting off Darvix. "Before you throw a fit, I was on assignment to find this item, as well as a few other things. Do you know who this belonged to?"

Darvix tilted his head slightly. What was Corran doing, lurking around his home and searching for these items? "I haven't the foggiest idea."

Corran looked back at Darvix for a moment. He nodded to himself, and took the holocron, carefully wiring it in to the holoprojector at the center of the table.

"Understand this," Corran said. "I was as shocked as you are going to be in a few moments…Darvix, I don't know what you have been told about the Jedi, but you need to understand that we're not evil people. All I ask of you right now is that you remain open minded."

Darvix wanted to argue. His mind was screaming at him to deck Corran right there. What did any of this have to do with him? This entire conversation was pointless, but Darvix's sense of curiosity was quickly getting the better of him.

"Whatever it is you have to show me," Darvix said quietly, "Just do it. Cut the chatter and show me already."

Corran looked at the holoprojector, keying in a few commands to bring up the data buried within the holocron. With a soft sigh, Corran brought up the entry page into the journal of the long fallen Jedi. He closed his eyes as the name of its former owner displayed on the image.

For a long while, there was silence in the room. Corran dared not say anything, for fear of upsetting the young pilot. He imagined that Darvix was now suffering through a wide variety of emotions, from confusion to dismay, shock to anger. Everything Darvix had clung to since he was a child had just fallen in around him. The stories he was told were suddenly null and void.

"This…this can't be true," Darvix said softly, his voice shaky.

Corran shook his head once more, "You know it is."

Darvix looked away from the holoprojector, staring at the table top, "The Jedi killed my father! Just before I was born, they left my mother a widow!"

"Nearly all of the Jedi were already dead," Corran said. "Your father was one of the scattered few left after the purge, and was one of the last to fall. I don't know how he died, but it wasn't at the hands of the Jedi."

He should argue, he wanted to argue. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs and break everything within ten meters of him. Darvix had been lied to, and he had been clinging to that terrible lie his entire life. For years he had held the Jedi with contempt for a crime they had not committed. For years he had believed the propaganda the Empire had been pushing on him, despite the fact that he should have known better. Darvix Zorvan was furious, but this time, he was furious with himself.

"I know this is coming to you as a shock," Corran said. "But it is incredibly important that I tell you the rest of the story, for your own safety."

Darvix looked back at Corran. What more could there be? He had just found out the truth of his father, but that only opened up more questions.

"Darvix," Corran said quietly, "You're a Force-sensitive, like your father before you."

"That's crazy," Darvix replied, "There's no way I could be…"

"You know you are," Corran said, "Haven't you seen a lot of things happen to you, around you? Things you couldn't explain? Things you've chalked up as dumb luck?"

Darvix honestly reflected for a moment. Even within the last few months, he had been witness to some strange events. His mind immediately brought back the memory of his near-death experience after his Gunboat had been shot as he was fleeing from Telos. Somehow he had managed to trigger the eject, despite the fact that he couldn't reach the switch. He had survived long enough to be delivered to the Frigate Salvation, where, once again, he should have died. Darvix's body was in such poor shape, the Bacta bath should have killed him.

"You can feel it within you," Corran said. "Open up, Darvix…It's time to let the Force flow through you."

Corran reached again into his bag, retrieving a silver, cylindrical object and setting it down in front of Darvix.

"This was your father's," Corran said, "and now it's yours."

Hesitently, Darvix reached across the table, picking up the lightsaber hilt. He glanced over it, feeling the smooth edges and cold metal under his fingers. His thumb brushed over the primary switch, and after a bit of consideration, he flipped the lightsaber on. From the hilt, a blade as orange and brilliant as a Tatooine sunset emerged. The blade emitted a crisp hiss and a steady hum, and almost immediately, Darvix knew that the lightsaber felt right in his hands.

"What happens now…?" Darvix asked.

"You learn the ways of the Force," Corran said. "The pull and strength of the Dark Side is strong, but I have faith in you, Darvix…I know you can become a great Jedi."

Darvix shut off the blade and nodded. Things were about to change for Darvix, and he knew he would never be the same again.


	40. Find Your Center

Chapter Sixteen  
Find your center…

Lieutenant Eron Garn's communicator hissed to life, waking him from that blissful state of near-sleep he rarely got the chance to enjoy. Shaking his helmeted head to clear the grogginess, he turned the volume up,

"Green Two, Green Two, report in," came the voice of his squadron commander.

"Still functioning at nominal levels," Garn replied. He checked over his critical readouts quickly, "two green lights, all engines at full strength."

"Acknowledged, two. Keep your eyes pealed on your sensor screens. Intelligence has been getting some strange reports from civilian ships in this sector."

Garn shook his head, "Those strange reports were probably from Errant Venture. Five credits Booster's just trying to annoy the higher-ups again."

"Not a risk we can afford to take, two."

Garn let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back into the pilot's seat of his A-Wing starfighter. All that was out here in the vacuum of space was a half-dozen A-Wings, a Mon Cal cruiser, and space debris. Lots, and lots, of space debris. Starfighter Command had been on edge for the last few months, resulting in meaningless patrol missions that were simply a waste of fuel. He had to cancel out on a date with the new nurse in Sickbay because of this mission.

"Leader, this is three,' said a new voice over Garn's communicator, "I'm picking up some strange visual readings at vector Alpha-three-two."

Green Three was a Sullustan in the squadron, and he had one of the keenest eyes Garn had ever seen. Garn adjusted his course, bringing up the vector that Three had found the anomalies in. He squinted as he glanced through the forward viewport. At first, Garn didn't see anything amiss, just a starfield.

The Starfield. As he looked on with more care, he could see stars occasionally blinking out of existence, then moments later, coming back in to his view.

"Three, this is two," Garn said. "I see it, something's out there. Anyone have a sensor feed on-"

Before Lieutenant Garn could finish his thought, green laser fire emerged from nowhere. He tried to evade the fire, but a well placed bolt pierced Garn's transparisteel cockpit bubble, vaporizing him instantly, and sending his A-Wing spinning into his wingman.

***

* * *

"Sensor data coming in from Phantom Squadron," said a terminal officer below Captain Naolin.

"On screen," Naolin said.

An image displayed in front of Naolin, a direct feed from Phantom One. Out of the TIE's viewport, Naolin saw a Mon Calamari cruiser. If Intelligence data was right, the cruiser was the Pride of Ackbar. Despite the name, Naolin knew the infamous Admiral Ackbar wasn't on board. His cruiser was the Rebel flagship Home One.

"Phantom One, report status," Naolin said.

The pilot's voice came in over the communications unit, "Fighter screen destroyed, Phantom Squadron engaging capitol ship."

"Acknowledged, One," Naolin said.

He glanced at the feed from Phantom One's TIE, "One more thing. Bring your squadron back in one piece, Baron Fel. I'd hate to have to tell Moff Celia you cost him a large sum of credits."

"Understood, Ender," Baron Fel replied, "Fel out."

Naolin watched as the Phantom TIEs took on the defenseless Mon Calamari cruiser. The invisible fighters proved to be far too much for the Pride of Ackbar. One of the Phantoms went in for another pass, firing into the hull of the cruiser. Naolin assumed the fighter had hit the fuel cells, for fire and atmosphere vented out of the cruiser at an incredible rate. The lights of the Mon Cal ship dimmed, and it slowly began to fall towards the star it was orbiting.

"Target neutralized," the terminal officer said to Naolin.

"You think?" Naolin replied.

***

* * *

Cheriss ke Hanadi glanced around the speeder, gazing at her fellow Rogues. It had taken them nearly three days to decode the message the advance team had sent, but they were finally on their way to the refugee sector. She knew that soon they would be thrust into the fire once more. For a squadron of elite pilots, they seemed to do more than their fair share of intelligence work.

Cheriss had been told that at one point, General Antilles had built and was leading a squadron of pilots who specialized in this kind of work. The Wraiths, as they were known, were commandos first, pilots second. This was the kind of mission they were designed for, but shortly before the fall of Warlord Zsinj NRI had moved them from Starfighter Command, to intelligence.

Unfortunately, the Wraiths were disbanded almost immediately after their transfers. General Airen Cracken had chosen to send the Wraiths to different locations, believing they would cause less harm if split up. Though Wraith Squadron had been incredibly effective in their efforts to end Warlord Zsinj's terror, they were still a squadron of washouts, rejects, and troublemakers. Cracken had felt the Wraiths would only be a blemish on the New Republic's image.

Cheriss could only imagine how furious Wedge Antilles had been after hearing the Wraiths had been broken up. He had worked long and hard to build a new fighter squadron, and he had succeeded. Cheriss knew she would have been furious if her efforts were thrown away like that. Cracken's actions weren't the most honorable thing to do.

Wedge Antilles, on the other hand, was everything Cracken wasn't. His entire life, she knew Antilles fought for what was right, suppressing the tyranny of the Empire. He had shown her the importance of helping those around her, and inspired her to become a pilot. Yes, Wedge Antilles was a very honorable man.

So were the rest of the Rogues. Inyri Forge had forsaken her shady background to fight for the Republic. Hobbie Klivian and Tycho Celchu had defected from the Empire to fight for the then Rebel Alliance. Wes Janson had put his life on the line countless times to protect the lives of people he didn't even know. Honor was present with the long-time Rogue veterans.

Pash Cracken had come from a line of military family, and was pivotal in the fall of Coruscaunt. Gavin Darklighter had become a Rogue at a young age and had stayed with the squadron through thick and thin. Myn Donos and Ace Azzameen had both been serving the Republic for many years. Corran Horn was a Jedi Knight, and that in itself was honorable.

Then there was Darvix Zorvan. He had done many honorable things in his tenure with the Rogues, saving the lives of fellow squadron mates countless times. Still, the young pilot had forsaken the Jedi, and still clung to some of the old ways of the Empire. It made her wonder idly why she had fallen in love with him. Did his thoughts of the Jedi and the Empire cancel out the honor he had shown? Could she fault him for clinging to the ways he was raised?

Of course, it would be hypocritical for her to fault him. She swore to herself and shook her head. Here she was, still clinging to this idiotic honor system that had held her back for so long on her homeworld of Adumar. The honor system that had destroyed the lives of so many, led so many young pilots to their deaths, and had taught her to be nothing but a killing machine. General Antilles had shown her there was so much more in the galaxy than honor, but it was difficult to forsake the way she was raised.

Perhaps it was time she do some soul searching, to discover who she really was. Until she did that, she couldn't begin to find out who Darvix was. She owed it to herself to finally find her place in the universe.

***

* * *

Darvix raised the lightsaber, the orange blade casing its glowing light across the dimly lit room. Corran Horn watched from one of the walls as the remote hovered in to the air. The exercise had not been going well for Darvix, and Corran could tell he was growing more and more frustrated. The remote fired, and Darvix failed to deflect the shot again. Darvix shut off his lightsaber and cursed aloud.

"You're becoming far too flustered," Corran said.

"How can I do this?" Darvix asked. "I can't see well enough with these kriffing eyes to judge what the remote is going to do."

Corran shook his head, "Your eyes can deceive you. Stretch out with the Force and let it guide your movements. Don't let your physical disabilities limit your potential, let the Force compensate and further increase the strengths you already have."

Darvix looked at Corran for a moment, considering. He knew he had fast reflexes and quick feet. Even though he couldn't see well, perhaps he could use his speed to compensate. Nodding to himself, Darvix thumbed on the lightsaber once more. He closed his eyes and brought his lightsaber to ready. As he let out a breath of air, he could almost swear that he could feel the remote in front of him, as if it were attached to him. He stretched out, trying to solidify the feel of the floating device. Inhaling and exhaling once more, he prepared himself for the barrage of harmless blaster fire.

The first shot was directed at his left leg, and Darvix quickly flicked his wrists down, deflecting the blast, only to have to bring the orange blade across his head quickly to deflect another bolt. The remote floated behind him, and Darvix quickly turned and swung the blade across his body, sending the red bolt towards Corran.

"That's good enough," Corran said.

Darvix shut off his lightsaber once more, looking back at the older man, "I could feel it."

"Good," Corran replied. "You see the Force can heighten your awareness, giving you a split-second advantage that can mean the difference between life and death. Still, you must be at peace for the Force to help guide your actions. Without calm, you will fail. Come, it's high time we teach you some meditation skills."

"Do I look like some religious monk to you?" Darvix quipped.

"No, but women find a man who can meditate attractive," Corran replied with a grin.

Darvix blinked, "By all means, lead the way."


	41. Four Rules of Diplomacy

Chapter Seventeen

"Another transmission outbound," Inyri said, beckoning for Ace to come closer to her terminal. "Confirmed, it's using Imperial Military decryption."

"I see it," Ace replied, "Dap, can you get a lock on it?"

Darvix's hands quickly ran over the terminal before him, trying desperately to isolate the origin of the transmission, "It's going through different channels this time, I can't seem to get a good fix on it."

"Keep at it," Ace said.

He watched from a distance as Darvix worked his magic over the controls of the terminal. The kid was as gifted with computers as his older sister, Erin, was. Granted, since the end of Endor, she had settled down with a Rebellion pilot and started a family, but in her prime, she could slice with the best of them. He had used her expertise with computers to recover all sorts of information for the Rebel Alliance. Really, it was a shame she never got involved with Intelligence. She would have been good at it, and it might have kept himself in Starfighter Command.

Ace tore himself from his daydream as Darvix let out another curse. With the amount of skills the younger Rogue possessed with terminals, the Imperial technician always seemed to be one step ahead of him.

"It doesn't make any sense," Darvix said. "All of the communications equipment on this world is Old Republic era, at least the topside, anyways. Who knows how old the stuff is down here? To send a transmission, data has to be routed through three land hubs before being sent off planet, but every time that data is sent, it's coming from different hubs, most of the times hubs that are so far apart, they shouldn't be working together."

"In Basic, if you'd please," Ace said, trying to make sense of what the younger pilot had just told him.

"Simply," Darvix replied, "this guy is somehow tricking the communications system in place.

Ace shook his head, "How can you trick a communications array?"

"Honestly, I haven't the foggiest idea," Darvix said, slumping his shoulders. The young pilot looked exhausted. Ace couldn't remember the last time he had seen him get some sort of rest. Whatever Horn had said to him, it had put the younger man on edge. An exhausted Darvix wasn't going to do them any good.

"We'll keep an eye on the transmission logs," Ace said. "Go get some rest."

"I'm fine, really-"

"That's an order."

Darvix looked as if he wanted to argue, but Ace could see the fatigue finally set in to his features. With a brief nod, the Lieutenant stood from his terminal and left the small room to go get some rest.

"You've got to hand it to him," Inyri said. "He's devoted to what he does."

Ace grinned, "Ah, to be young again."

"Trying to imply something, Major?"

"Ah, no Lieutenant," Ace replied sheepishly.

***

* * *

Face Loran shook his head in disgust as he glanced over the latest transmissions from NRI. In only a few days, another handful of Republic sectors had fallen into the hands of the Imperials. If they couldn't crack the Phantom's cloaking device soon, they might as well hand Coruscant back to the Empire on a silver dish.

"What's the news, Face?" Wedge asked from across the speeder.

"Not good," Face replied, "Command has lost four Mon Cal cruisers, twelve dreadnaughts, and six Nebulon-B Frigates. Twelve full starfighter squadrons have been decommissioned due to heavy losses."

"Sithspit," Wedge muttered under his breath, "How fast is the Imp fleet moving?"

"Faster than our forces can retreat," Face said in turn, "Intel is already writing off another sector and its fleet."

"We're going to have to pick up the pace then," Iella said from Wedge's side. "I figure we've got only a few more weeks before the Imps are within striking distance of-"

Before Iella could finish her thought, the speeder came to an abrupt halt, slamming the Rogues on board into their restraints.

"What was that?" Wedge demanded.

Tycho, who was behind the steering console, turned to look at Wedge, "Trust me, General, you'd rather not know."

"Let's just say we're all doomed," Hobbie said in his typically dour tone.

Wedge raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak again, the side door to the speeder opened, and he was grabbed by the collar and shoved to the ground outside. He quickly tried to scramble to his feet and reorient himself, only to feel the kick of a booted foot to his stomach. He doubled over to the ground once more, and rolled to his back, staring upwards.

Only to see the barrel of a Blastech pistol in his face. Tycho was right, he didn't want to know. He glanced further up to see a scruffy looking Rodian, and it didn't look as if the alien was in a very agreeable mood.

"Okay, if its money you want," Wedge said, "you can have whatever is on us."

"No," the Rodian replied in a heavy accent, "we're here for revenge."

Wedge thought for a moment, trying to figure out who the psychopath above him was. He continued to stew on that thought as the Rodian brought him to his feet, slamming him against the speeder. He looked to his sides and saw the others that were in the transport with him.

Kell Tainer was more than a match to take on a few of the thugs that were determined to kill them. Face and Tyria, though not as tough as Tainer, were smart enough to figure out a way out of this mess. He had seen both Tycho and Hobbie in hand-to-hand combat, and knew that they would fare well, and as protective as he was of Iella, he knew she could fend for herself. Of course, the only question now was how to get out of this fix.

"Revenge, huh?" Face asked. "Sure you wouldn't rather have our credits, or our speeder?"

"Is that the new TX-34?" one of the alien thugs next to the Rodian asked, only to have the gang leader smack him upside the head.

"Oh, we'll take them," the Rodian replied, "after we kill you."

Step one, Face thought to himself, try and diffuse the situation via flattery.

"Come now," Face said. "Certainly a tough group like you has bigger battles to fight. Why waste your time with some low-lifes like us?"

The Rodian turned off the safety on his blaster pistol.

Step two, Face continued, refocus the opponents attention to something more important.

"Really, this isn't such a wise idea," Face continued, his voice remaining calm, "There was an Imperial Stormtrooper transport not very far behind us. I don't think they'd appreciate you blasting innocent civilians."

"You're far from innocent," the Rodian said, as the other thugs raised their own sidearms.

And, step three, Face said to himself, bludgeon, blast, beat, and otherwise abuse the opponents until they leave you alone.

Face looked over to Kell for a moment, offering a quick nod. A smile crept on to Tainer's face as he looked at the thug in front of him. A moment later, Kell burst forward, leveling the Rodian that was watching him. For a split second, the other Rodians looked towards Kell, just long enough for the rest of them to spring to work.

As Face ducked and rolled forward, he saw Iella draw her holdout pistol, quickly leveling two of the further Rodians. Before he could get in to the action, the rest of the gang had turned tail, and was running away from the scene as fast as their legs would carry them.

***

* * *

"Someone care to tell me what the hell that was about?" Wedge asked as he dabbed a wet cloth over some of the dried blood under his nose.

"What?" Kell asked. "You don't hold people at gunpoint for kicks?"

Wedge glared at Kell for a moment, "Who were they, and what did they want?"

Tycho, nursing a bruised shoulder, piped in, "Who was that gang we ran into on the flight here?"

"Those mercs?" Face asked. "Darvix said they ran under an alias…something along the lines of the Crusaders…or was it the Campers? Comb-overs…?"

"The Crushers," Tycho said, "Who else would want revenge on us?"

Wedge nodded, "Let's assume it's them. How did they find us? We've taken pretty decent precautions."

Iella, holding a coldpack to her cheek, spoke up, "It wouldn't be impossible to find us, just difficult."

"Of course, why waste the time and effort?"

"Perhaps they were bought off by the Imps to keep tabs on us," Iella replied.

"Damn," Face swore. "The Imps are trying to keep us busy and distracted."

"Lovely," Wedge mused. "Let's worry about this later. I've got a headache the size of the Imperial Plaza…"


	42. Terminal Geeks

Chapter Eighteen  
Terminal Geeks

Kelin Sokyr cursed aloud as he smacked the terminal in front of him. It was bad enough that Captain Naolin had sent him to this backwater world, but it was worse that they hadn't given him any decent equipment to work with. All he wanted to do was send out his daily report back to the Ender, but once again, his technology was failing him. If he had known the Phantom Dee-Thirty-Four project would have landed him in this wasteland, he would have turned down the offer. Idly, he wondered if he should have listened to his mother and become a doctor. They made good money. They didn't have to wallow away in a refugee sector. Oh mother, Kelin thought to himself, you were right again.

He hit the transmit request again, only to have another error message flash on his screen. Curse these insane countermeasures Imperial Intelligence had put in to place to keep the Rebels from finding him. In the back of his mind, Kelin knew that it probably was a wise idea, but logic told him otherwise. What were the chances that any rebels would show up on this world? Even if they were here, what were the chances that the Rebels would be able to find him? In the refugee sector, he was just one of countless thousands crammed into a tiny area. They'd never find him, so why bother with the countermeasures?

Grinning, Kelin brought up another interface hidden deep within his terminal. Carefully entering commands, he told the terminal to cleverly bypass the ImpNet decryptions. He would send the communication through regular channels, then have it re-encrypted off-world. It was fool-proof, provided that the Rebels weren't on world (which he was sure they weren't.) He knew it would take the message longer to reach the Ender, but that was okay. Kelin keyed the transmit button, and this time, the message went through.

It would give him time to address the glaring weakness in the Phantom's cloaking system.

***

* * *

Darvix yawned, tossing a datapad stylus up in to the air, sticking it into the ceiling. The communications hubs had been silent as far as recognizable ImpNet traffic was concerned. That had Darvix worried. Transmissions in Imperial decryptions had been leaving Nar Shadaa like clockwork. He could count on a transmission being sent daily at around Oh-Eight-Hundred hours, give or take a few standard minutes.

It was already twenty minutes past that time, and he hadn't detected any ImpNet transmissions. Something was wrong, and he knew it. Had their target simply decided to transmit the message later? Darvix shook his head. Whoever was sending these transmissions was compulsive about transmitting them at a proper time. No, the message had been sent, he just couldn't find it.

The question was, why couldn't he find it? Had the Imperials caught on to them? Had they changed their encryption to something he couldn't pick up on? No time to ask questions. Darvix leaned forward in his seat and placed his hands on the terminal's user input, quickly going to work to find some sort of anomaly in the communications network.

***

* * *

Kelin leaned back in his seat, smiling to himself. He knew he was clever when it came to anything technology. No, not just clever. Kelin knew he was the best. He'd be able to save himself all sorts of time with his new communications setup. As a bonus, it would take his messages longer to reach the Ender, meaning he wouldn't have to deal with those incompetent military fools as much. As far as he could tell, he won every way imaginable.

The sound of his door hissing open awoke him from his daydream. He looked over his shoulder to see an Imperial officer walking in. What was his name again? Kelric…Kelvim…Kerrie…Whatever, just another mindless Imperial officer.

"What do you need now?" Kelin asked gruffly. He hated dealing with these idiots.

"Just giving you a status update, Mr. Sokyr," The officer said. "Our agents with the local gang have informed us that there are Rebels on planet."

Well, Kelin said to himself, kriff.

"While it is unlikely that they'll ever find us," the officer continued, "we'll have to take certain precautions. They may be monitoring the communications networks to try and triangulate our position. Still, as long as you're using our scrambling system, we'll be fine."

Kriffity kriff, Kelin said, groaning inwardly.

With that, the Officer left. Kelin immediately returned to his terminal and began slicing into the local communications network. He had to get rid of any trace of the last communication he sent, otherwise he'd be spending a long while in a Rebel detention cell.

***

* * *

_AWAITING COMMAND._

Darvix thought for a moment, wondering exactly what to have the system look for.

"Flag all civilian communications that contain the words "Cloaking Device" or "Phantom Dee-Thirty-Four," Darvix told the terminal.

He watched as the improvised program began scouring through the incredible amount of data the communications network had stored and sent. This was going to be about as easy as finding a electrolock-pick in a haystack. When the program had finished, over one-thousand communications had been flagged. Darvix frowned, he would have to be far more specific with this crude program.

"Flag all civilian communications that contain the phrase "Cloaking Device" or "Phantom Dee-Thirty-Four," Darvix said. "Keep results limited to messages sent between 0700 and 0900 Nar Shadaa Standard."

***

* * *

Kelin wiped the sweat off his brow as he continued to enter commands in to the terminal. He couldn't even find the message he had sent, because it was so far buried in to the communications network of Nar Shadaa. Curse this dated system! Why couldn't he be working with more up-to-date technology? He wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for this pathetic excuse for a terminal and the Imperial countermeasures. If they had let him handle the entire Phantom project his way, he wouldn't be wasting his time here.

Damn the military!

It took him nearly five minutes to track down the message he sent. With a sigh of relief, he sliced into the message and prepared to erase it from the queue of outgoing messages, and from the network's database itself. Kelin entered in the final commands and told the system to execute his finely crafted slicing work. The terminal showed the communications database thinking for a moment, before a new message popped on to his screen

_ERROR: REQUESTED FILE IN USE. MESSAGE CANNOT BE TERMINATED._

"Oh kriffing mother of kriff!" Kelin swore aloud.

***

* * *

_ONE MATCH FOUND TO QUERY._

Darvix bolted upright and ran his hands over the terminal, bringing up the message to read over it.

"Revisions to schematics have been made," Darvix read aloud, "and are enclosed in this message. It is of grave importance that you note a weakness has been found with the Phantom TIE's cloaking device."

Darvix's heart skipped a beat. This message was infact from the technician they were searching for. He couldn't believe his luck. Not only had he found the technician, he had discovered that the Phantom could be exploited. There was hope yet!

"Because of security concerns," Darvix continued, reading the message, "I cannot disclose this weakness as of yet. Upon receiving the latest Imperial decryption codes, I will send you the details of the weakness and its possible exploits."

Darvix saved a copy of the message, quickly forwarding it to Iella Wessiri's datapad. The Intelligence crew working with the Rogues should be the first to see this message. As soon as it was sent, Darvix turned his attention back to the terminal, slicing deeper into Nar Shadaa's communications network. Within a few moments, he had found what he wanted, and the terminal awaited his next command.

"Triangulate location of message Thirty-Four-Theta-Seven."

***

* * *

Kelin gritted his teeth as he continued to hammer away at the network's security. All sorts of failsafes were in place to keep him from deleting that message, and it was starting to annoy him. He'd have to meet the man who was in charge of Nar Shadaa's security network and shake his hand. Then beat him to within an inch of his life for greatly inconveniencing him.

Of course, this would all resolve itself soon. After all, he knew he was the greatest when it came to anything technology.

Finally, he managed to beat the security, and began the process of removing the message from the database. Yes, Kelin was the best, and he had just proven it again.

***

* * *

_ERROR: CONNECTION WITH REQUESTED FILE LOST. FILE HAS BEEN TERMINATED._

Darvix swore aloud and slammed his fist into the terminal. He had been so close to finally figuring out where this technician was hiding, and he had just missed out on his chance. Sighing, Darvix leaned back in his seat and rubbed his eyes. He might as well go get some rest, there wasn't much more he could do here.

Something was nagging at the back of Darvix's mind. Deep down, he knew that he should look at the partial data recovered from the network, though he wasn't sure if that was just his instincts, or a prodding from the Force. Regardless, he rested his hands on the terminal and began to go to work. Carefully, he began to plot the partial data he had received on to a map of Nar Shadaa's communications hubs.

And finally, he caught a lucky break.


	43. Calm Before the Storm

Chapter Nineteen  
Calm Before the Storm

"The partial data retrieval has isolated our Imperial Technician to two possible areas," Darvix said, reaching for the control panel in front of him and dimming the lights in the room. The holoprojector came to life, and the image of the Refugee Sector map appeared. The map was divided into a series of triangles, based on the locations of communication hubs that tended to work with each other.

"Though incomplete," Darvix continued, "We've managed to obtain the location of two of the data hubs our Imperial tech has been routing information through. In what appears to be an oversight, a transmission occurring this morning at Oh-Eight-Hundred hours was sent through civilian traffic with civilian decryption."

He pressed another button in front of him, and two of the communication hubs were highlighted in red.

"Now, in this sector, communication hubs work in tandems of three," Darvix said, directing the attention of the other Rogues to the map. "It's an outdated system, but it allows for us to triangulate the location of the message sender. Based on this, we can safely determine that our technician is hiding out in one of two places."

Two more data hubs were highlighted on the map in yellow, and the triangles the hubs formed were filled with a blue shading, "On the left will be designated Mission Critical Alpha, and on the right Mission Critical Beta."

Darvix looked over the Rogues for a moment before directing their attention to the man at his right, Trrax Cynedres. The Corellian born smuggler had spent the last few months making runs in and out of this sector, bringing in foodstuffs, while smuggling orphaned childrens out. Darvix was well aware he couldn't get a confession out of him, but he knew the man had a soft spot for children.

"Mr. Cynedres has worked extensively in this area for a period of time," Darvix said. "His insight should be able to narrow down which area we will pound."

With that, Darvix took a seat at the front of the table. To say he had been nervous was an understatement. General Antilles knew that he had the most knowledge of the communication arrays that had been set up here, making him the ideal candidate to conduct this briefing.

"As you can see," Cynedres said, "both of these locations are found in the upper levels of the Refugee Sector. At one point in time, these were headquarters for sort of 'mini-governments' that regulated what went on with the lives of the refugees. Following the downfall of these governments thousands of years ago, the upper levels were taken over by refugees hoping to move towards the top of Nar Shadaa. In recent years, however, one of these sectors became the base for the local gang you miscreants have had scuffles with."

One of the blue triangles flashed for a moment before the map faded away to bring up a more detailed schematic of the area in question

"Given the choices, where do you think the Imperials would be?"

Major Azzameen shook his head, "Mission Critical Beta, of course. It's a similar tactic that was employed by Warlord Zsinj. Cover your tracks with that of local misfits and mercs."

"Precisely."

"We've got a target," Wedge said, standing upon his feet. "What do we do now? What says you, Face?"

Face Loran looked up at General Antilles and grinned, "Personally I say we lull them into hibernation with a few Tetran Cowell holodramas. We'll have them so bored we can just walk in, grab the technician, and leave."

Snorts and chuckles of amusement echoed through the room. Even Wedge had to laugh. Loran, a one-time child star, had always held a grudge for Cowell. Wedge didn't care for him much either. He'd been hired to impersonate Baron Fel in an attempt to take Wedge's life. Did Cowel even survive that little embargo? He couldn't remember.

"We need to take time into account," Iella said from the back of the room. "The longer we wait, the more platforms and starfighters we loose to the Phantoms. Whatever we do, it needs to be something we can execute quickly. We don't have time for surgical precision."

Kell Tainer, the tall demolitions expert piped in, "What do you propose? We run in blasters blazing screaming 'Yub-Yub' at the top of our lungs?"

"It's got an appeal to it," Wes remarked. "Still, this would be Tyria's department, wouldn't it?"

"I sure wish Shalla was here," Tyria said with a sigh. Shalla Nelprin had been one of the Wraiths before NRI had disbanded the group. She was extremely proficient in combat and combat strategy. "Well, let's try and tackle this logistically. How many people can we expect to be guarding our agent?"

"Not many," Trrax replied. "The Imperials wouldn't use an entire stormtrooper detachment to protect one out of many technicians. I'd imagine just a few officers with sidearm blasters, plus whatever the local gang has to spare…assuming they're in an alliance with the Imperials."

"That's a safe bet," Wedge said. "We've got two factors working against us, the Imperials and the gang. We need to even out the odds."

"General, I thought Corellian's didn't believe in the-" Gavin said from the back of the conference table, before being cut off.

"Finish that sentence and I will give you so much KP your head will spin," Wedge replied. "Ideas, people."

"I've got something," Cheriss said.

Wedge nearly did a double take. Cheriss rarely spoke up in briefings and planning sessions, choosing to keep her thoughts to herself. Granted, she'd shoot her mouth off anywhere else, but never in such an important atmosphere.

"Put it simply, personal honor," Cheriss continued. "You saw how they acted as we flew in. They thought we were easy pickings, and our flight of X-Wings vaped easily. We wounded their pride, and we can use that to our advantage."

"I see where you're going," Face said, grinning. "Give them a target they can't refuse."

"Exactly," Cheriss said, offering a rare smile. "If we give them an opportunity like that, they won't refuse. If we're lucky, they'll keep throwing resources at us until we're ready to go."

"I like it," Face replied. "Reckless endangerment of our pilots and resources, moronic attempt at distraction, preying on the village idiot. All that's missing is for a tribe of Ewoks to pounce and start throwing stones."

Wedge raised a hand, "Lieutenant ke Hanadi, I want a full report on your proposal in thirty minutes. As for the rest of you, get your gear ready. Full arms. I want to be moving in two hours. Questions? No? Good. Dismissed."

***

* * *

Darvix wrapped the earpiece around his left ear, tapping once on the tiny wireless microphone attached to his collar to ensure it was transmitting properly. Riding on his forehead was a sleek set of tinted welding goggles that he used to cover his cybernetic eyes. It was a pointless gesture. This mission would require them to blast their way in and out in a short amount of time, not exactly the fine precision work that required himself to blend in with those around him. Still, it served as a reassurance to him. He wasn't proud of his eyes, for they were just another link to his Imperial past.

The details for the mission were sketchy at best, but that was to be expected. The Rogues and the NRI operatives were to split in to three teams. The first team, consisting of Inyri Forge and Ace Azzameen, would serve as a distraction in their X-Wings. The second team acted as a lookout. After going over the map of the surrounding area, they had decided on a decent position with a wide field of view, allowing Myn Donos to serve as a sniper if the situation got out of hand. The third team itself would infiltrate the building the Imperial tech was believed to be in. If all went well, they would board a speeder and return to the landing docks that their shuttle was located.

Of course, with how shoddy the planning on this mission had been, Darvix was certain that it wouldn't be that easy. As Darvix turned around, he bumped right into Cheriss.

"I thought you'd be with the distraction crew," Cheriss said, cocking her head to one side as she looked Darvix over.

"What?" Darvix asked, feigning shock. "Miss all this fun?"

"You'd do anything to avoid working with Corran," She said, bringing the conversation back on track.

Darvix opened his mouth to object, but quickly changed his mind. He had requested that Corran and Wedge keep his newly discovered Jedi ability quiet. Darvix didn't need the stress of others finding out, especially at this time. Of course, that fact would only answer part of her question.

"I've got some unfinished business to tend to," Darvix said. And that was the truth, too.

***

* * *

Ace powered on his repulsorlifts, running through his mental checklist once more. In the back of his head, Ace knew that he should be a much more recognized pilot than he actually was, but he didn't mind. It was in his nature to fly under the sensor, which was why Alliance Intelligence had been so keen on stealing him away from the Starfighter Corps.

"Hope this works," Inyri said through the communications system.

"It should, our transmitters have all but attached a giant 'kick me' sign to our tails."

"Here goes nothing, then."

Ace eased his flightstick back, allowing the nose of his X-Wing to point into the dark Nar Shadaa sky. Moments after he threw the throttle forward, his sensor array came to life. Yellow blips, signifying hostile contact, were racing towards them.

"Twenty credits says I get at least three more kills than you, old man," Inyri said. Ace could hear the grin on her face.

"I'm obligated to take you up on that offer," Ace replied, smiling as his hand tensed around the flightstick. "It's time I show you how a pilot is supposed to fly."

"Whatever you say, Major."

With that, Ace turned his attention forward and brought up his targeting computer. He was facing seven on two odds. Outnumbered, Ace thought to himself. Just like the good old days.


	44. The Fall

Chapter Twenty  
The Fall

Wedge Antilles glanced at his chronometer. A few more minutes, and they would begin the attack. The perimeter team, led by Corran Horn, had just signaled in and reported that all was clear for their intrusion. All visual reports indicated that the presence out armed guards had vacated their posts as soon as the distraction team had commenced their attack. Glancing at his blaster rifle, ensuring the power pack within it was fully charged, Wedge looked over at the four Republic agents with him.

Wes Janson ran a finger along the barrel of his blaster. An expert marksman, Wes could nail a target hundreds of meters away with only a service blaster. It had been those skills that had made him deadly with the gunner controls of a Y-Wing. Next to him was Kell Tainer, a beast of a man that could frighten fear into any stormtrooper with just his height. Tainer's physical prowess made him a no-brainer to put into the intrusion team.

Across from Wedge was Tyria Sarkin. Wedge had known her to be a Force sensitive who had been rejected by the Jedi Academy. He had heard, however, that she had become far more in tune with the Force in recent years. Wedge wouldn't be surprised if Skywalker took her in for training; she had always shown a tremendous amount of perseverance. Face Loran sat beside her, running his gloved thumb over the length of his vibroblade.

It was a reunion of Wraiths, Wedge mused. It was his boldest idea; a squadron built of washouts, albeit talented washouts, that served as a commando unit first, and snubfighter squadron second. They had proved their immense worth during the fight against Warlord Zsinj, and they had nearly brought him down themselves. They were going to go a long ways as a unit.

Until Intelligence got them. Until Airen Cracken got them.

They had told Wedge that they wanted to reassign the Wraiths to intelligence in order to give them work that was more suited to them. Wedge had been stupid enough to believe them. The moment Cracken had gotten his slimy hands on them, he decommissioned them and sent each Wraith to different portions of the galaxy. Apparently the Wraiths weren't "Republic" material. They didn't fit into the 'neat' Intelligence image that the Republic loved.

Now, more than ever, Wedge cursed Cracken for his idiocy. This crisis was exactly what the Wraiths were built for. If he could only get the Wraiths back, Wedge knew he could bring an end to the Phantoms. This was no longer a job for the Rogues.

Wedge would be having a few words with NRI when he got home.

***

* * *

"Got one on my six!" Inryi said over the comm. "I'm gonna get vaped here!"

Major Ace Azzameen slammed onto his left etheric pedal and threw his flightstick hard left, bringing Inyri's X-Wing and her pursuer into his visual range, "Forge, if you can't shake a Z-95 you deserve to be vaped!"

"Will you cut the chatter and help me out!?" she demanded.

"Aye," Ace reached to his control panel and adjusted the convergence system for his laser cannons, making sure they were switched to cross-linked fire. Making a slight modification to his flightpath, he set his targeting brackets right behind Inyri's tail. "Eight, on my mark break as hard as you can to starboard."

"Acknowledged, Five."

Ace gritted his teeth as he continued to follow Inyri's flightpath, watching as the Z-95 continued to pour red laser fire into her six. Most of the bolts missed the target, but enough were hitting her aft shields to worry him. He'd have to get rid of her trailer fast.

"Ready, mark!" Ace shouted, pulling back on his flightstick hard. The more agile X-Wing had an edge on the aging Z-95. Just as he hoped, Inyri began to open more space between her and the old Headhunter. Ace pulled back on his trigger and let loose with a wave of fire, quickly tearing through the shields of the Headhunter and piercing its armor plating. Ace saw the bubble-domed cockpit of the Z-95 burst into flame, and Inyri's pursuer veered off course, bursting into a fireball.

"Thanks, Five."

***

* * *

Wedge's wrist chronometer buzzed. He gave a quick nod to his team and burst to his feet, running towards the entrance of an old, run-down building the Imperial technician hopefully was hiding in. The guards had long since vacated their posts, no doubt watching holodisplays of the aerial battle overhead. Wedge pressed his back to the wall next to the entrance door, glancing over at Kell Tainer, who was reaching into his pack.

"What are you doing?" Wes asked from behind Tainer.

"Blowing the door open," he replied.

Wedge stared over at Kell, "Is that really necessary?"

"No."

"Then don't do it."

"You're no fun anymore, General."

"Was he ever?" Wes asked.

Wedge shook his head and reached for the door's entry command, only to find the door wouldn't budge. They didn't have time to try and slice it open. Sighing, Wedge looked back to Kell.

"Blow it open," Wedge said.

With a grin Kell reached into his pack once more and retrieved a cylindrical detonation charge. Wedge, having known Kell for long enough, took several steps back. Or several hundred, Wedge lost count. Raising his blaster rifle and setting the butt of the weapon against his right shoulder, he gave Kell the thumbs up. Moments later, the loud sound of an explosion filled the area.

Wedge burst into a run, charging into the building with his blaster rifle blazing. He screamed as he fired into the smoke, only to feel someone tap his shoulder a few moments later. Wedge turned around to look at the others, staring at him with raised brows.

"I didn't need to do that, did I?" Wedge asked, looking at the empty corridor.

"No, sir," Wes replied.

"I look like an idiot, don't I?"

"Yes, sir."

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan looked through the macrobinoculars, cursing silently at his cybernetic eyes. There were many times he wished his vision wasn't so limited, and now was definitely one of them. He wished he could see the action that was going on in the building. Swearing aloud, he handed the binoculars off to Corran.

"Looks like Kell blew something up," Corran mused. "They're in."

Darvix nodded and took another look at his datapad, which was feeding them ground sensor data. For now, they were the only significant lifeforms on the chart. So far, so good. If this went according to plan, they would be onboard Trrax Cynedres' YT-2400 and heading back to Coruscant.

Still, Darvix had a very bad feeling about all this. Something bad was about to happen.

***

* * *

Wedge glanced behind him at the three dead Imperial officers. Wes had been the first into the room, and had picked them off with three very well placed shots. As Wedge looked forward, he saw another door, protected by what looked like a very tough electronic lock. They couldn't risk blowing the door open, they might kill the technician that may be behind it. They didn't have time to slice it either, for Ace and Inyri were holding off Headhunters by themselves. What in the world where they going to-

Wedge's thoughts were cut off by the sound of a blaster firing. As he looked back towards the door, he saw the electronic lock had been blasted. Tyria Sarkin holstered her still smoking hand blaster, and Kell Tainer moved to the door, and slowly began to push it open.

"Crude," Wedge said.

"But most effective," Wes finished.

Moving towards the door, Wedge glanced inside, seeing the Imperial technician, Kelin Sokyr pressed up against the door. His eyes were opened wide in fear.

"If I were you," Wedge said, "I'd come with us peacefully."

Replying only with a nod, the technician (who Wedge decided to call Poster Boy), walked towards the former Wraiths.

***

* * *

"Mission Critical is in custody," Darvix's comlink said. "Darvix, Myn, get to your starfighters."

Darvix holstered his sidearm and stood up looking towards Corran and Cheriss for a moment.

"Be careful," Cheriss said. "If you get hurt, I'm never going to forgive you."

"I'll keep that under advisement," Darvix said, grinning.

He gave the young woman a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing his pack and breaking into a run. He needed to be up in the air to help Inyri and Ace. He needed to be up in the air to help the Rogues, his only family…

His only family worth anything, at least. Darvix seemed to have lost track of time, his mind burning in thought. Before he had realized where he had run to, he found himself staring at the backdoor to his old home. The home that he had been raised in, the home that had raised him to be an Imperial lackey. Suddenly Darvix knew why he was here. It was time for answers.

Darvix entered his home, walking into the dining room where he knew his mother was. He could feel her in there, feel the surprise she felt as the door opened. Darvix could feel everything about her. He could feel everything, except for the rage that was rising within him.

"Darvix, what are you doing here?" His mother demanded.

"You lied to me!" He said, shouting at her. "You told me the Jedi killed my father! You lied, my father was a Jedi!"

For a moment, there was only shock on his mothers face. Soon, a look of calm determination set upon her features.

"The Jedi did kill him" she said. "Their ideology, anyways. If he had given up on their shameful ways, he wouldn't have died."

"Who killed him?" Darvix demanded.

"A loyal servant of the Emperor," she replied calmly. "I ended his sinful life. I killed him with his own lightsaber. Ironic, isn't it? The symbol of everything he stood for was the instrument that ended him."

Darvix could only stare, too shocked to speak. His own mother had killed his father. The same women who had blinded him to the horrors of the Empire had taken away his father. Darvix couldn't suppress the pure, unadulterated rage that was brewing within him.

Darvix couldn't stop his hand as it reached for his lightsaber, thumbing it on and slowly advancing towards the woman that had destroyed his life. Now his mother's blood would be on the blade that she had used to take his father's.


	45. Ambush

Chapter Twenty-One  
Ambush

Kelin Sokyr was furious. These pitiful Rebels had managed to beat him at his own game, and had tracked him down. Unless he did something, the Rebels would discover the glaring problem with the Phantom Fighters, and the Empire would be thwarted once again. No, that couldn't happen, and it wouldn't either. Just before that blasted Antilles and his minions had kidnapped him, he had sent off a distress call. Soon enough, the Rebels would be facing down an Imperial taskforce that even the fabled Rogue Squadron couldn't handle.

He wondered idly how they had managed to discover his location. Sokyr assumed they had a code-slicer with them that might rival his own potential. He wanted to meet that slicer, and then kill him slowly and painfully. No one made Kelin Sokyr look stupid, no one.

"On you go, pretty boy," said one of his captors from behind him, prodding him with the barrel of a blaster.

"What will you do if I don't?" Kelin demanded. "Kill me? I'm not much good to you then, am I?"

A young woman that was walking beside Kelin raised a brow, "Kill? Force, no. We'd just resort to other measures. Break your fingers and toes one by one with the hilt of a vibroblade, bludgeon in your kneecaps, slice off a few fingers with my blastsword. All we really need is that pretty little head of yours in tact."

Kelin did the only thing that seemed appropriate at the time. He spit in the face of the young woman who was his captor. The girl shook her head and wiped off the saliva with a gloved hand. That same hand reared back, and landed squarely on Kelin's jaw, causing him to stumble back in pain and shock.

"Not so pretty anymore," the girl remarked as she rubbed the sting out of her knuckles.

"That's why you don't upset an Adumari woman," the captor behind him said. "It usually results in great physical pain. Right, Hobbie?"

"Either that, or she'll render you unable to procreate," another captor said.

Kelin Sokyr wanted to tell them that as soon as they were in space, they were doomed. He figured he'd let them figure it out for themselves. He also figured saying it would only bring about another round of pain from that animal woman.

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan looked at the scene before him. Lying before him was the decapitated form of his mother…No, she didn't deserve that title. She was a tool of the Emperor, and was now dead, as she should be. Part of Darvix screamed, begging to know why he had just committed such an atrocious crime. Another part of him just laughed. How ironic indeed! The same tool the woman had used to kill his father had killed her.

It was that same hollow laughter that had filled him when he had killed that Twi'lek girl all those years ago. Still, it was different this time, wasn't it? The dead woman before him now had deserved to die. Darvix felt an almost sinister smile creep upon his lips as he pondered that thought. Yes, it most certainly was different this time.

Darvix reached towards his side, pulling out his blaster and aiming it at the curtains at the opposite side of the room. He pulled back on the trigger, and the red bolt slammed into the wall and curtain, igniting it on fire. Slowly, the flames began to spread towards the surfaces nearby it. The smile upon his lips grew as he realized that the house was going to go up in flames. No more would this be another memory to haunt him of his past.

He took one more look at his dead mother before walking out of the homestead, allowing the flames to engulf it. Darvix didn't even notice when the part of himself that was screaming in fear and shock was taken over by that hollow laughter. He was laughing to himself the entire time he ran towards his X-Wing. He let his laughter emerge from his lips as he lifted off, gazing back at what was once his home, at what was now a raging inferno.

***

* * *

Wedge Antilles gazed out of the forward viewport of the YT-2400 freighter, the Corellian Star. So far, so good. A few more minutes, and they would have the coordinates set and they would be on their way to rendezvousing with the Republic. They might be able to put an end to the Phantom threat yet! Wedge glanced behind him, seeing that Corran Horn and Pash Cracken had strapped into the passenger seats behind him. Corran was monitoring the sensor data, while Pash kept his eye on the communications array.

"Just should be a few more moments," said Trrax Cynedres from the pilot seat beside Wedge.

"You know, Trrax," Wedge said as he leaned back into his seat, "I knew you'd take up your mother's trade."

"Was it that obvious?" The other Corellian said.

"Wait, wait," Corran interrupted. "General, you knew this man before you let him join up with us?"

Wedge swiveled his seat around, looking at Corran, "Did I forget to mention that little fact?"

"Well… Yes."

"Oops."

"If I may," Cynedres said with a grin. "My mother was one of the early smugglers for the Rebel Alliance, specializing in bringing Rebel outposts armaments stolen from Imperial shipments. She also specialized in smuggling orphaned children out of Imperial hands.

"I'm sure you know that General Antilles' parents ran a refueling station above Corellia before their untimely demise. That station was one of my mother's regular transfer points for the children she saved. She would take them there, and the Antilles would arrange safe transport for them into Rebel hands under the table."

Corran looked over at Wedge, "This true, General?"

"Why, I'm shocked you CorSec types never figured it out," Wedge replied with a tight smile. His parents had been kind people, and their harboring of children just proved that.

"My mother kept smuggling for the Rebellion until the Imperials caught wind. Didn't even bother with a hearing…They just vaped her transport from space."

Wedge shook his head, "I was sorry to hear about that."

"No need, she died doing she loved."

For what seemed like an eternity, the four of them rode up in the cockpit in silence. Memories of the past always seemed to resurface at odd times for Wedge. He wasn't really surprised to find that Cynedres was on Nar Shadaa. Probably was searching for a child or two to take to safety. Force knows there was enough of them down there. He wondered idly how he and Darvix knew each other…After all, it had been Darvix who had insisted that Wedge allow the smuggler to work with them.

"General," Pash said from behind him, "We have a problem."

***

* * *

Darvix's sensorboard came to life, and klaxon alarms began to sound, "Rogues, we have a problem."

"Acknowledged," came Myn's voice over the comlink. "Reading two ImpStar Deuces and outgoing fighter screens. I'm reading squints and dupes."

"I see it," that was Ace's voice. "Lock S-Foils in attack position and break off by pairs. Forge, you're on my wing."

A click over the comlink signified Inyri's acknowledgement. Darvix pulled back on his stick and throttled back slightly, allowing himself to fall in on Myn Donos' wing before matching his throttle speed. He checked over his system outputs, making sure his shields were charged and his laser batteries were set.

"Myn, Dap, swing wide and draw fire away from us," Ace ordered. "We're going to try and take out those Dupes before they can hit the Corellian Star."

Darvix threw his throttle into full and evened out his shields. Looking to his port, he saw that Myn was still with him. He brought up his targeting computer and switched his firing control over to proton torpedoes, centering his targeting brackets in the middle of a large TIE Interceptor formation. Entering a few quick commands into the fire controls, he let loose with two torpedoes.

The blue streaks sailed towards the squints, but before they could break away in time, the torps detonated, sending shrapnel into the unshielded snubfighters. One TIE took the brunt of the explosion, disintegrating immediately, while several others began to veer out of control, no doubt their fighters suffering damage from the explosions. A few other squints followed their doomed wingmen, not realizing that they had been badly damaged.

"Four confirmed kills," Myn's voice said. "Nice shooting."

Darvix switched over to lasers and set them to single, rapid shots. He let loose with a volley of red laser fire…

***

* * *

Kelin Sokyr cursed as he looked through the viewport of his temporary cell. He saw two Imperial Star Destroyers, but he didn't see the ship that was supposed to save him! If it didn't arrive soon, he was as good as dead.

***

* * *

"Corellian Star reports it's taken fire, but should be able to hold it together. Just a few more minutes."

Darvix heaved a sigh of relief as he glanced at his sensor board. A squadron of TIE Bombers had appeared about ten klicks behind him, "Seven, think we can handle them?"

"Dupes? Of course we can."

With a grin, Darvix slammed on his pedals, throwing his X-Wing into a spin on its nose. His intertial compensator couldn't quite keep up with the move, but Darvix stayed in control. Switching his lasers to dual fire, he put his throttle at full and raced towards the dupes. Within moments, his targeting brackets flashed green, and he laid down on the trigger, sending a long series of red bolts into the dupe formation.

"Eleven, we've got a serious problem!"

Darvix cast a glance at his sensor board and felt his stomach sink.

***

* * *

"New reading," Corran said. "Oh Kriff…"

Wedge looked back at Corran and at the sensor board. Cold fear gripped at his heart as the reading became more solid.

"Mark one Interdictor class Star Destroyer," Corran said.

"It doesn't matter," Pash said from beside Corran. "We're almost out of its gravity well."

"But seven and eleven aren't!" Corran yelled.

Wedge swore as loud as he had ever sworn. They had been so close to getting out of this mission unscathed, but just as all appeared well, all hell broke loose. He knew that they had no choice, but that didn't make the truth any easier to swallow.

"We have to abandon them," Wedge said quietly. "There's nothing we can do."

***

* * *

"Seven, we're coming in to assist," Ace said over the comlink.

"Negetive," Myn replied. "There's no way in hell you can do anything to help us. Get the rest of the Rogues out of the gravity well. We'll scratch your pursuers from here."

For a moment, silence filled Darvix's cockpit. He knew that he was dead, but it didn't seem to matter. Focus on the objectives at hand.

"Acknowledged," Ace replied. "May the Force be with you."

The two of them continued to fight for what seemed like an eternity. Darvix had lost track of the number of TIEs he had vaped, and was beginning to feel increasingly uncomfortable. He wasn't the kind of pilot who racked up kills, but he had no choice right now. It was kill, or be killed.

Darvix looked into the distance. His cybernetic eyes couldn't make the image very clear, but he was sure he saw the outlines of one freighter and two X-Wing snubfighters disappear into hyperspace.

"Doesn't look good, does it seven?"

"No, it doesn't, Dap," Myn replied. "It's been a thrill working with you."

Darvix smiled faintly, "You as well, Donos. What do you say we take down some of these bucketheads with us?"

"That's the best idea I've heard in a while."

Darvix pulled back on his flightstick and veered towards the oncoming TIEs. If he was going to die, he might as well die having some fun. Darvix had always feared he would die behind the flightstick of his X-Wing. Now it wasn't fear, it was just cold reality.

Well, Darvix said to himself, guess I'll never get to ask her.

End of Book Two


	46. Part Three: Dramatis Personae

Rise of a Rogue – Part III

Dramatis Personae

General Wedge Antilles (Human Male from Corellia)(Rogue Commanding Officer)(Rogue Leader, Wraith Leader)

The Wraiths  
Captain Garik "The Face" Loran (Wraith One)(Commanding Officer)(Human male from Pantolomin)  
Lieutenant Tyria Sarkin(Wraith Two)(Human female from Toprawa)  
Captain Ru-Murleen Tavria(Wraith Three)(Human female from Tatooine)  
Flight Officer Hohass "Runt" Ekwesh(Wraith Four)(Thakwaash male from Thakwaa)  
Lieutenant Kell Tainer(Wraith Five)(Human male from Sluis Van)  
Lieutenant Dia Passik(Wraith Six)(Twi'lek female from Ryloth)  
Lieutenant Voort "Piggy" saBinring(Wraith Seven)(Gamorrean male from Gamorr)  
Lieutenant Shalla Nelprin(Wraith Eight)(Human female from Ingo)  
Flight Officer Elassar Targon(Wraith Nine)(Devaronian male from Devaron)  
Lieutenant Commander Darvix "Dap" Zorvan(Wraith Ten)(Executive Officer)(Human male from Nar Shadaa)

The Rogues  
Colonel Tycho Celchu (Human Male from Alderaan) (Executive Officer)(Rogue One)  
Major Wes Janson (Human Male from Tanaab)(Rogue Two)  
Major Derek 'Hobbie' Klivian (Human Male from Ralltiir)(Rogue Three)  
Colonel Lane 'Ace' Azzameen (Human Male from Azzameen Station)(Rogue Five)  
Captain Corran Horn (Human Male from Corellia)(Rogue Nine)  
Captain Gavin Darklighter (Human Male from Tatooine)(Rogue Six)  
Captain Pash Cracken (Human Male from Contruum)(Rogue Ten)  
Captain Myn Donos (Human Male from Corellia)(Rogue Seven)  
Captain Inyri Forge (Human Female from Kessel)(Rogue Eight)  
Lieutenant Cheriss ke Hanadi (Human Female from Adumar)(Rogue Four)

Support Personnel  
Major Lysa Chanaan (Strategist and Quartermaster) (Human Female from Zorbia II)  
Cubber Daine (Wraith mechanic)(Human male from Corellia)  
Gate (Wedge's R5 unit)  
Whistler (Corran's R2 unit)  
Zone (Darvix's R2 unit)

New Republic Military and Intelligence  
Admiral Ackbar(Calamari male from Mon Calamari)  
General Airen Cracken(Human male from Contruum)  
Iella Wessiri(Human female from Corellia)

Civilian Forces  
Gara Petothel (AKA Lara Notsil)(Human female from Coruscant)

Imperial Forces  
Moff Jeris Celia (Human male from Euceron)  
Captain Reyov Naolin(Human male from Aargau)  
Captain Baron Soontir Fel(Human male from Corellia)


	47. Desperate Times

Chapter One  
Desperate Times call for Desperate Measures

Darvix "Dap" Zorvan broke off from Myn Donos' wing and swooped in behind a TIE Interceptor. A quick squeeze of the trigger sent two carefully timed blasts into the ion engines of the agile enemy snub, causing it to burst into a mass of flame and durasteel fragments. Darvix rode through the fireball and circled back around, casting a cybernetic eye at his shield and hull indicators. His deflectors were falling quickly, and he knew his hull couldn't stand much more of a beating.

"If you've got any words of wisdom," Darvix said over his headset, "now would be the time."

"Not really," Myn replied as he sailed past the nose of Darvix's X-Wing. "I just wish I'd tried Calamari melon fruit before I died."

"You and me both."

Darvix had lost count of the number of kills he had racked up long ago. Normally, he wouldn't be taking on this sort of role, preferring to ride alongside his wingman for support. Like all battles, the circumstances dictated ones actions. Today, Darvix was looking at two X-Wings facing four full wings of enemy starfighters. Add to that, the two of them had been pinned into place by an Interdictor cruiser and two Imperial Class II Star Destroyers.

"No chance we can get out of the Interdictor's gravity well?" Darvix asked.

"No way can we get out the same way the others did," Myn replied. "We'd have to fly between those ImpStar Deuces…unless."

"If you've got something," Darvix said while squeezing off a few more blasts from his rapidly diminishing power stores, "Now's the time to hear it."

"We'd never get back on track with the Rogues," Myn said. "And even if we could slip past those turbolasers, those Interceptors would be on us before we could reach the jump point."

Darvix cursed as he saw a squint pop up in front of his view screen. He already had one on his tail, firing deadly green bolts of superheated laser energy into his six. Quickly, then threw his flightstick down and looked back just in time to see the two squints ram into eachother.

"Sorry about that," Darvix said, leveling out his flight relative to the Star Destroyers, "Feel free to continue."

"We can circle around Nar Shadaa and make a blind jump into hyperspace," Myn said, forming onto Darvix's wing.

"Seven, that's the stupidest thing I've heard in a long time!" Darvix shouted. "Do you know how many moons and asteroids are out in this system?"

"Have any better ideas, Dap?"

"No," Darvix said with a sigh. "Lead the way, I'm your wing."

"Switch into cruise position and transfer all energy from laser cannons to the engines," Myn said. "Set your shields to minimum discharge."

Darvix winced and did as ordered. He saw the reasoning behind closing up his S-Foils, the smaller profile would make him a harder target. If they were running, they really didn't need laser power either. At this point, it was all about speed, so might as well ditch the shield power to the engines as well. Still, that was a rather unnerving thought. He didn't like the concept of running away from squints with his shields powered down.

He knew this had a chance to work. With everything shunted to the engines, he had enough speed to stay slightly ahead of the squints, provided they didn't channel their own laser energy to their engines. Darvix also knew he'd be cutting it close, and even if he made it, he was keenly aware that a blind hyperspace jump would probably kill him. Unlike a Corellian, Darvix respected the odds. They called him "Datapad" at the academy for a reason.

"Tell me, Myn," Darvix said as laser fire streaked over his cockpit, casting a green glow over his controls, "What good is this going to do us?"

"We're using Nar Shadaa as a shadow," he replied over the comlink. "Think of it as that Interdictor's blind spot."

Darvix grinned. They never bothered to teach creative thinking at the academy, he'd have to get a few pointers from his wingman later.

"I'm transmitting you a set of random coordinates, so we at least exit at the same location," Myn said. "Commence jump to hyperspace on my signal."

"Understood, Lieutenant."

Darvix took one last look at his sensor screen, breathing out a sigh of relief as he noticed the distance beginning to build between himself and the squints.

"If we get out of this," Darvix said, tensing his fingers around the flightstick, "I'm buying you drinks until you become comatose."

"I'll hold you to that."

He could feel that they had nearly moved to the other side of the planet, and it was a matter of time before he received the order to jump. Making sure the crude coordinates were set into his astrogation computer. For the first time this dogfight, this entire mission, Darvix was beginning to feel fear grow in the pit of his stomach. If there was anything he hated, it was the unknown. Where was he going to fall out of hyperpspace. Was he going to hit something? Where would they go after that. Perhaps he should turn around and try his luck at attacking that Interdictor-

"Mark!" Myn shouted. "Engage hyperdrive!"

Snapping awake from the fear that was gripping him, Darvix's hand left his throttle and moved towards the lever that controlled his hyperdrive. He quickly threw it forward, and held his breath as the stars streaked past his viewscreen…

***

* * *

  
Two days later  
Republic Cruiser Mon Remonda

Wedge Antilles stepped out of his quarters, sighing to himself. It had been easy for Darvix, since he had no next of kin. It had been harder for Myn, to tell his friends that he was missing in action, and was presumed to have been killed. The Rogues were battle seasoned, well aware that any given day, they could loose a friend in combat. Well, most of the Rogues were battle seasoned, anyways.

Cheriss ke Hanadi had been inconsolable since leaving Nar Shadaa. For the second time, she had lost her love to the Imperials, and she knew this time she wouldn't be getting him back. It tore Wedge in half, seeing one of his youngest pilots so emotionally distraught, especially a pilot like Cheriss. As long as Wedge had known her, she had been a strong-willed girl…No, she was a woman now, Wedge chided himself. She had done a lot of growing up since he had first met her on Adumar.

Wedge wanted to comfort her at that moment, but he had other matters to attend to.

***

* * *

"I'm a little confused," Admiral Ackbar said, giving a rough approximation of a frown. "You want to meet with the two of us, yet it isn't about the mission you have just completed?

"That's right, sir," Wedge replied, standing at attention in front of his superiors.

Well, at least one of them was his superior. Admiral Ackbar had earned the respect of Wedge Antilles long ago. Airen Cracken was another story entirely. Twice in the last few months he had sent his Rogues on death-trap missions that were better off in the hands of other units, and that was why he was here.

"Well, be quick then," Airen Cracken said from the other side of the conference table.

"I wish to state my disappointment with the way my squadron has been used the last few months," Wedge said bluntly. "We're a fighter squadron performing tasks that belongs to better teams."

Cracken stared at Wedge for a moment in disbelief. The Rogues were upset with their high-profile work he had given them? It was absurd. Then again, as long as he had known Antilles, he'd known the man was unorthodox in many ways.

"General Antilles," Ackbar said. "Certainly you understand that your Rogues are the best suited to the work you've been given."

"Right now, anyways," Wedge said. "But we weren't always."

Wedge smiled to himself as he saw the grin rise on to Ackbar's face. He knew where Wedge was going with this, and he knew it was going to upset Cracken greatly.

"I assume you're referring to the Warlord Zsinj era."

"Yes, sir."

By now, Cracken had caught on to what Wedge was planning, and he jumped to his feet, "Absolutely not."

"General Cracken, why don't you let General Antilles finish."

"Thank you, sirs," Wedge said, feeling the giddiness bubble up within him. "I want Wraith Squadron reassembled and put into Starfighter Command under a temporary basis, and I want them under my command. The Phantom Fighter situation is exactly the crisis I designed them for."

It was true. He had built the Wraiths to be an Intelligence crew first, and a starfighter squadron second, and they were damned good at what they did, despite the fact they were a squadron of washups and misfits. Wedge wanted them back, and he wanted them under his command now.

"Forget it," Cracken said, anger in his voice. "They were split up for a reason!"

"Of course," Wedge said with a shrug. "They didn't fit your image for Intelligence-"

Admiral Ackbar held up a hand, "Both of you, please. General Antilles I'd advise you to hold your tongue."

Wedge felt a slight blush rise to his cheeks, "Sorry, sir."

The Mon Calamari consulted his datapad for a moment, as if in earnest thought. He knew he had Ackbar's support, but without Cracken's it was a moot point.

"I'm going to sign off on this request," Ackbar said. "The Rogues need to go back to doing the work they were created to do."

"That's not going to do you any good," Cracken said, with a smug smile on his face. "I refuse to sign off on this order. Remember, those washouts are under my command."

"Very well," Ackbar said. "I'll go over your head."

Wedge almost did a double take. The fabled Admiral Ackbar was waving off military etiquette and threatening to go straight to the Republic council over the matter? At that point, Wedge knew Cracken was doomed. With Ackbar's popularity, he would get the Wraiths back in a matter of time.

Cracken shot a glare at Wedge before bringing up data on his own datapad, "Very well. I'll sign off on the request. Who knows, I might let you keep them this time."

Wedge smiled and snapped another salute, "Thank you for your time, sirs."

With that, he turned sharply on his heels and walked out of the conference room. He finally had gotten himself a victory, and he was going to ride this one all the way to the bank.


	48. Bloodstripes

Chapter Two  
Bloodstripes

Two days earlier, Darvix Zorvan and his wingman, Myn Donos, had escaped from an Imperial ambush against all odds. Following the veteran Rogue's lead, Darvix had made a blind jump to hyperspace in the gravitational shadow of Nar Shadaa, his childhood home. From the beginning, the mission they were on was doomed to fail, and the ambush by an Imperial Interdictor cruiser served as a climax.

Yet they survived. The main Rogue Squadron detachment had returned home, and Darvix and Myn had improvised their own escape route. Unfortunately, it was only the beginning of their problems.

"Not good," Darvix said. "My hyperdrive is operating at about thirty percent. I won't be able to get back to the fleet without repairs."

The escape hadn't been clean. As they had jumped in, Darvix's X-Wing caught what must have been the outer-edge of the Interdictor's gravity well, and it nearly had torn his X-Wing in two. In addition to the hyperdrive malfunction, he was down to his top sublight engines.

"Can you fix it if you go hard vacuum?" Myn asked over the communicator.

Darvix shook his head, as if Myn could see him, "Negetive, Seven."

Going out hard vacuum was the dreaded term for entering the cold grips of space to attempt an emergency repair job. It was dangerous and usually resulted in a nasty cold if the pilot survived. Darvix had considered it, but his R2 unit, Zone, had said the damage had occurred deep within the recesses of the hyperdrive. There was no way he could fix it without tearing his X-Wing apart, and that was just not something he was going to do in zero-gee. They needed to figure out something fast, for it was only a matter of time those Imperials finally cracked the series of erratic blind-jumps they had made.

"I probably can coax a little more life out of the hyperdrive," Darvix mused. "Not much, though. I think it'll only make it a quarter of the way back to the fleet."

Darvix checked over the damage list displayed on one of the X-Wing's status monitors in silence. If he was on the ground, he might have a shot at making the necessary repairs. Of course, he'd probably need to find replacement parts, and that eliminated many of the nearby planets in the system. With the exception of Nar Shadaa, this system was mostly backwater planets, devoid of technology.

"I've got it," Myn said. "Transmitting hyperspace coordinates."

Darvix punched in a few commands on his flight console with a gloved hand, only to shake his head in dismay, "Are they really going to appreciate two Republic X-Wings just dropping out and asking for help?"

"They don't appreciate anyone dropping out of hyperspace and asking for help."

Darvix could only sigh, "Point. Still, we're not exactly on the best of terms with them, are we?"

"No one's on good terms with Corellia, but at least they're part of the Republic now."

That was the understatement of the millennia. Corellia had a reputation of being perhaps the most introverted civilized planet in the Galaxy. The fact that they had CorSec, perhaps the strongest independent security agency in the galaxy, was a testament to how little they wanted to do with other worlds. Many felt that they had joined the New Republic simply for image's sake. The second they caught wind of them, CorSec would turn them around and send them on their merry way once more.

"This isn't going to work," Darvix said, feeling himself grow more and more flustered.

"Trust me," Myn replied smugly, "it will.

Darvix closed his eyes as tried to stretch out to the Force, like Corran had taught him. He needed to calm down, and needed to do so quickly. "Alright, I think I've got enough left in this old girl to get me there."

"Acknowledged," Myn said. "Let's be off, shall we? Head in first, in case your hyperdrive fails."

"As ordered, Seven."

Darvix plotted the data into his astrogation computer and brought up power to his hyperdrive. He had faith that the damaged unit could still get him to his destination, though it would take a while longer than he would have hoped. With a prayer to the Gods of Flight for luck, Darvix engaged his hyperdrive and watched as the stars streaked past him, and space transformed into the molten black and blue of hyperspace.

He undid the strap of his helmet and took it off, setting it atop his flight console and running a gloved hand through his messy black hair. It was a bad and potentially dangerous habit, but it made the burdens of hyperspace a little easier on him. Darvix switched over communications to the lightspeed settings and shunted the audio over to his cockpit speakers. It really was the first time since they had left Nar Shadaa that he had time to really think.

Darvix wished he didn't have that time. A sense of cold dread washed over him as he finally reflected upon his last actions upon the urban surface of Nar Shadaa. He had killed his mother in hatred, like he had killed that poor Twi'lek girl all those years ago. It was different, though. His mother deserved to die, so why did he feel the same disgust and regret?

She deserved to die, he told himself. She had killed his father, she had instilled the Empire's teachings upon him. She deserved to die! He kept repeating that to himself, slowly managing to suppress the sickening feeling in his stomach. Darvix shut his eyes tight and said it aloud, his mother deserved to die. It was his duty to take her life. He had done the right thing!

The disgust died away, but the hollowness he felt within him didn't. With time, Darvix told himself, it would. After all, he had done the right thing. She deserved to die. Slowly, the sadistic smile crept back on to Darvix's lips.

***

* * *

Nearly fifteen tense standard hours later, Darvix and his wingman dropped out of hyperspace. He hadn't slept the entire time because he had to monitor his hyperdrive status, and he had barely slept the two days prior. The young pilot was exhausted, but he still had to fly. He opened a hailing frequency, but before he could utter a word, Myn spoke up.

"Attention Corellia, this is independent X-Wings RA-Three-Forty-Five-Omega and CO-Eight-Twenty-Nine-Theta. We have taken on damage and are in desperate need of repairs. Request immediate atmospheric entry clearance."

Darvix had forgotten their X-Wings had been repainted and had their transponder codes changed before they had left the Main Fleet. Now they could hide on Corellia and avoid possible conflicts while they repaired their ships.

"X-Wings, this is Corellian Security," a new voice over the comlink said. "Request denied. Proceed to queue and prepare for inspection."

Darvix could almost hear Myn swear. The last thing they needed was to be inspected by the ever thorough (and paranoid) CorSec. Their cover would be blown in a heartbeat, and they would have no way to escape.

"Attention, CorSec," Myn said. "You're speaking with Myn Donos, former Corellian Armed Forces sniper and recipient of the Bloodstripes. It is vital to our survival that we be granted immediate passage into Coronet for emergency repairs."

Darvix held his breath in anticipation. It was the moment of truth, either Myn had gotten them into Corellia, or they were going to have to turn tail and flee. Unfortunately, the latter really wasn't an option. Darvix's X-Wing was limping, and he highly doubted he could coax another hyperspace jump out of her. If this didn't work, Darvix figured he could easily find himself in a Corellian brig somewhere.

"Acknowledged," a reluctant voice said over the communications system. "Proceed directly through entry route eighty-two-alpha."

The flightplan appeared on Darvix's screen, and he adjusted his flightstick and throttle to follow it. Switching over to an encrypted hailing frequency, he brought up communications with his wingman.

"Nice bluff," Darvix said. "Little over the top, though. Ever considered getting in to acting?"

"It wasn't a bluff," Myn replied bluntly.

"Oh," was all Darvix could say in return.

***

* * *

Within minutes, the two of them had settled down on the ground of Coronet, the capitol city of Corellia. Darvix had always found the planet to be a strange one. It was fairly populous, but unlike other worlds like Coruscant, Corellia had not become a purely urbanized planet. Corellians took pride in the vast expanses of wilderness and oceans the planet had to offer. Despite that, Darvix had a keen respect for the inhabitants of Corellia. The world had turned out some of the greatest pilots ever to man a spacecraft, Wedge Antilles, Soontir Fel, and even the illustrious Han Solo.

Darvix swore aloud as an electrical current gave his organic hand a shock, "Zone, do me a favor and temporarily cut all power."

His black and gold R2 unit, still nestled in the droid housing behind the cockpit, gave an affirmative chirp. Darvix lowered himself to a laying position on his stomach, settled above the top of his X-Wing. Pulling out his hydrospanner, he opened up a panel and moved some wiring out of the way. The inner components of a hyperdrive were tricky to reach on an X-Wing, and Darvix had never really attempted to access them before. Like any other pilot, he had studied the basics of starfighter mechanics, but he was by no means proficient at it.

Despite that, he knew trouble when he saw it. After a bit of struggling, he detached the hyperdrive motivator and set it atop the X-Wings hull. Even at first glance, he could see cracks on the outer shell. He didn't even need to crack it open to know that piece was a lost cause. Shaking his head and setting the motivator to the side, Darvix continued to dig into the hyperdrive.

"How bad is it?" came Myn's voice from below his snub.

"It's a miracle I'm not dead," Darvix replied. "Motivator's shot, and the inertial dampeners are damaged. We're going to need to track down replacement parts or find another ride out of here. I've got Zone wiping the flight records right now, in case we have to abandon her."

It was hard for Darvix to admit he might have to leave his X-Wing behind. Since his escape from Imperial Space, it had been the one of the few objects he had kept with him. Even while at the academy, he refused to specialize in piloting the faster A-Wing or the stronger B-Wing, choosing instead stay with his X-Wing.

"I doubt we're going to be able to find alternate transport without raising suspicion," Myn said. "I guess we look for replacement parts. Get a list of what you need and we'll look."

"Yes, sir."

***

* * *

It took Darvix nearly four hours to fully take the hyperdrive apart and examine the damage done, as well as assess other systems in his starfighter. He was relieved to find out the damage only pertained to a few components of the hyperdrive, and shouldn't be too tricky to fix. Unfortunately, he suspected they would have a hard time finding the parts needed. The starfighter had been designed by the Incom corporation years ago and was given to the Rebel Alliance. This of course meant that it had never gone to the public. What person in their right mind would carry parts for a ship that only the military would use?

The two Rogues walked through the streets of Coronet City, searching for a store in which they could purchase ship parts. Earlier, Darvix had quietly sliced into a bank computer, retrieving a large sum of credits they would no doubt need.

"Did you live in Coronet?" Darvix asked his wingman.

Myn Donos shook his head, "I lived in a smaller town in the farmlands, but I often came here to buy supplies and have some fun."

Darvix nodded and glanced around at the various shops and restaurants. Somewhere, there had to be a starship supply shop, it was just a matter of finding it. As he continued to walk, he glanced into the window of one shop and stopped in his tracks. Myn looked back at him with a questioning look and moved towards him.

"Hey," Darvix said. "Why don't you head to that deli across the street and grab something for us to eat. I'll be right with you."

With a shrug, Myn turned and left Darvix. He entered the small shop that had caught his attention and gestured for the clerk's services, asking him to retrieve the item behind the window. He knew it wouldn't be very appropriate to buy the item with the money he had stolen, so he paid for it on his own account. Darvix knew he had just set himself back for months, but it was worth it. As he walked out of the shop, he pocketed the small velvet box.

***

* * *

Myn Donos entered the dimly lit parts store, only to bump into an R2 unit. He muttered a quick apology and walked up to the counter, looking around for the shop owner or the employee. At first glance, Myn knew this was probably the seediest parts shop not on Tatooine. That was good, Myn reflected. This place would probably have illegal parts, such as military grade hyperdrive components for an X-Wing.

"Lovely little place," Darvix mused quietly. "Wonder how many zoning violations have been committed here…"

The R2 unit Myn had bumped into moved towards the back of the store and chirped for its owner's attention.

"I'm coming, Tonin, I'm coming," said a decidedly female voice.

Wait, Myn said. Tonin. I know that name…Oh, sithspit.

A woman dressed in loose fitting black and white clothing, with long red hair draped in a braid over her right shoulder emerged from one of the back rooms. She was rather delicate as far as her features were concerned. The woman rubbed her hands together, trying to shake off some of the mechanic's grease that had gotten on to her skin.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, not yet looking up at her customers.

She didn't look up until the silence finally got to her. Myn couldn't say a word, stunned beyond all belief. As she finally looked at the customers, she herself was gripped by silence. She had changed her appearance, but Myn recognized that voice, and recognized those facial features.

"Lara," he croaked. "You're…supposed to be dead."


	49. Regroup

Chapter Three

Thankfully, Lara had the parts Darvix needed to repair his hyperdrive. Still, the hour was late, and the two Rogues didn't have a place to stay for the night. Lara had kindly allowed them to stay in her loft above her store, and for the first time, he truly noticed how tired he was. It had been days since he had a full nights rest, and nearly twenty-four standard hours since he had gotten any sleep whatsoever. He was exhausted, and he needed to get some sleep before he hurt himself. Within moments of his head hitting the cushion of the worn couch, Darvix was asleep

Myn Donos looked across the kitchen table at the woman he had known as Lara Notsil. A long time ago, he had fallen in love with that woman, only to learn she was actually Gara Petothel, an intelligence officer who had led Talon Squadron, his squadron, to its death. He had found out while in the midst of a mission, and he had lost it. Myn had tried to kill Lara, but wound up nearly killing Face Loran instead.

He had realized not long after that he didn't want Lara dead, that she was a different person. Unfortunately, his action drove her off to the Imperials. This time, she was working against them. She had managed to sabatouge Warlord Zsinj's Super Star Destroyer, but as she fled, she was shot down and presumed dead. Shortly after the ordeal, he had received a message from her, but never read it. He had assumed that it was another apology made before her death, but Myn didn't need to see it. He had forgiven her already, and seeing her in a message would only make him hurt more.

If only I had read it, Myn thought to himself.

"You never forgave me, did you?" Lara asked quietly. "That's why you never responded to my message."

"No!" Myn protested. "It's not like that…"

"Then enlighten me," Lara said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Myn looked at the tabletop for a moment before responding, "I was convinced you were dead…I didn't think that message was anything but an apology you had already given me…and one that I had long since forgiven."

Lara gazed at Myn, understanding showing within her expressions. She knew it wasn't fair to fault Myn for not reaching her, she knew that he must have been experiencing a level of pain she may never know. A level of pain she hoped she would never have to know.

"How did you end up here?" She asked.

"Luck, mostly," Myn replied with a shrug. "You know I can't tell you anything more than that…"

"You know I can easily find out if I want to."

Myn heaved out a sigh. It was true; Lara had proven it time after time. If she needed information, she would find some way to get it. If command found out he had given sensitive information to a former Imperial agent, let alone a traitor to the New Republic. It was wrong to tell her, but Myn couldn't seem to justify –not- telling her.

"We were ambushed on an escape with a vital Imperial technician," Myn conceded.

"I figured you Rogues would be investigating the Phantoms," Lara mused.

Myn raised an eyebrow in suspicion, "You know about the Phantom project?"

"Not much," Lara replied with a shrug, "Spaceport mercs are buzzing about these supposed "ghost ships" that have been causing hell for the Republic military. I did a little bit of searching and stumbled into some data concerning the project."

"What exactly did you find?" Myn asked.

"Just the fact that it's a TIE design starfighter with a cloaking device of sorts," Lara said in turn. "Thank god you haven't run in to them yet."

Yet. That was the keyword. Myn knew that soon enough, the Rogues would clash with the Phantom Fighters. He just prayed they had found a weakness in the enemy's weapon by then, or it would be a very short-lived clash.

***

* * *

The next morning, Darvix was lying on his stomach above his X-Wing. An experienced technician, he knew, would have the replacement parts in and function without a hassle. Unfortunately, Darvix wasn't an experienced technician, and he had been at it for about two hours now. He was up to his elbows in wiring, and couldn't make heads or tails of what to do next.

"Need a hand?" asked a voice from below him.

Darvix looked over the edge of his X-Wing to see Lara on the ground below. With a thankful sigh, he waved for her to climb aboard.

"I just can't figure this out," Darvix said. "The charts Zone has for me are about as clear as a Kashyyk swamp."

"Myn told me you were good at this stuff," Lara mused as she kneeled down in front of the open panel.

"Computers and terminals are one thing," Darvix replied. "Mechanical systems are another."

"Pitty we don't have Kell here," Lara said as she reached into the hyperdrive compartment.

Darvix glanced over at Lara. She seemed to be nice enough, so he could trust her, right? He stretched out with the Force, as Corran had taught him to do, trying to read deeper into Lara, only to find himself confused. For someone like Lara, there seemed to be so much sadness within her, intermingled with a keen sense of guilt. But why?

"How do you know Myn?" Darvix asked, trying to spark up some conversation.

"We flew together," Lara said "back when he was a Wraith, up until I got shot down."

"You were presumed dead, why didn't you come forward?" Darvix asked, curious.

"I see no reason in lying to you," Lara replied with a shrug as she dug into the compartment again, "If you were to turn me in, I'd know about it, and I would disappear again."

"I won't say a word," Darvix promised. "The two of us have bigger issues to deal with. Besides, do I look like CorSec?"

"Corran?" Lara asked with a laugh. "Thank the stars no…Anyways, before I joined the New Republic, I was an intelligence officer under one of Warlord Zsinj's men. I provided him with sensor data that wiped out an entire X-Wing squadron…Myn's first squadron. Shortly after that, the Star Destroyer I was on came under attack by a Republic fleet, and I fled to Coruscant under the identity of Lara Notsil.

"While trying to start over, I was confronted by a couple of Wraiths, one of them being Face Loran," Lara continued. "He offered me a spot in the Academy if I would help take down an embezzling officer. I accepted, and finished off their job. Shortly after, I became a Wraith, with the intention of turning them, and the Mon Remonda, over to Warlord Zsinj…"

"But you couldn't," Darvix said, finishing her thought, "You had a change of heart."

Lara looked up from the X-Wing, staring at Darvix for a moment before replying, "I realized there was no honor in what I was doing for the Empire, and that Zsinj didn't deserve my loyalty…and somewhere along the line, I fell in love with Myn. Long story short, he found out that I was the officer who destroyed his squadron, and I was forced to flee to the 'safety' of Warlord Zsinj's fleet.

"I sliced into their systems and nearly helped the Mon Remonda end Zsinj's reign of terror. As I made my escape, I was shot down. Commander Antilles apparently reported me as dead, even though he saw that I was still alive on the ground. I fled to Corellia, where I've been trying to rebuild my life since."

"Despite what you've done," Darvix said, "You couldn't return to the Republic because of their laws. You'd be tried and convicted of treason."

Lara nodded solemnly, a look of pain emerging on her face. Darvix didn't need the Force to tell she was sincere. Long ago, she had made amends for her wrong-doings, but still she was suffering the consequences.

"I know this doesn't mean much," Darvix said, "but I believe your story, and I know you aren't a traitor."

Lara looked up at Darvix once more, a stray tear cascading down her cheek, "Trust me, Darvix, it means a lot."

***

* * *

Myn Donos had suited up and was standing beside his X-Wing. A few quick hyperspace jumps, and they would be home and out of danger. Against all odds they had survived an ambush. With that behind them, they could return to the task of ending the Empire's Phantom Fighter. He turned around, to speak with Lara Notsil once more.

"I know you're going to want to help us," Myn said, "but I ask you not to. If you were to be found, I don't know what I'd do. I'd never forgive myself for getting you involved in this."

Lara shook her head, "You have no reason to apologize."

"Promise me, Lara," Myn continued, "When all this is over, I'm going to devote my entire self into getting your name cleared; I want you back in my life."

"Alright," Lara replied quietly, "but don't get yourself killed."

"I'm Corellian," Myn said with a tight smile, "we don't know how to die."

***

* * *

Almost two days later, Major Lysa Chanaan sat at the communications board of the Mon Remonda. She had been assigned to Rogue Squadron as a strategist and quartermaster, but while the Rogues were gone, she had to find other ways to keep herself busy. When a case of food-poisoning broke out, she had been hastily taught how to control the communications array until the crew recovered. Lysa Chanaan was still waiting for them to recover.

For the most part, the communications systems were silent. After all, the Mon Remonda was split up from the main fleet. Mostly, she would sit around while listening to her portable music player. Needless to say, when the communications display lit up, Major Chanaan was a little surprised.

"Mon Remonda, hailing Mon Remonda," the voice over the communicator said. "This is Rogue Seven and Rogue Eleven requesting immediate landing clearance."

Lysa's hand flew towards the transmit button, throwing her headset on quickly, "Rogue Seven, transmit your clearance codes."

Moments later, the screen in front of Lysa confirmed that they were who they said they were.

"Rogue Seven, Rogue Eleven, you're cleared for landing," Lysa said, elation in her voice, "Let me be the first to say we're glad you're alive and well. Welcome home, boys."


	50. Loss

Chapter Four  
Loss

Cheriss ke Hanadi smiled across the table at Darvix. She had been elated to hear that her love was still alive. In the days he had gone missing, she had taken stock of her life and reassessed what really was important to her. For years, she obsessed over an intangible "honor" that always seemed to elude her. On her homeworld of Adumar, she could never rise to the same level of importance that the pilots could because of her vertigo. When she had learned it could be treated, and she could learn how to fly, she jumped at the chance. Surely then she would finally achieve that level of honor that had so long been alluding her.

She had breezed through the Academy, and was assigned to Rogue squadron about a standard year earlier. Cheriss knew it was for political reasons, but she knew that she had the ability to fly with the best. She thought she would find that honor with the Rogues, but it never came. Every day she saw the chaos the Empire had inflicted across the galaxy, and it had made her sick. Her work was to clean up after their mess. It should have brought her satisfaction, yet it didn't.

Then, only a few months ago, she had met Darvix Zorvan. The young pilot was as green as anyone she had ever seen, but he possessed a drive that she admired. He never professed to being a pilot for glory, and his records showed it. For weeks, she tried to figure out what his reasons were for fighting. His style didn't indicate it was for any personal gain or honor. Just what was it?

It wasn't until a few days earlier that she finally figured it out. She had spent many sleepless nights staring up at the ceiling of her quarters, wondering what could have been different if she had been flying that fateful day. It mildly surprised her when she realized that she would have done anything to try and save Darvix. There was no honor in that; there was honor in completing the mission and returning home, so why did she imagine herself saving the love of her life.

One late night, it clicked for Cheriss. All of those things Wedge had said years ago made sense. There was one thing that rose far above honor, one thing that could drive a person to the ends of the universe. Darvix didn't fight for honor, he fought because he loved the galaxy, and he wanted what was best for it. That was why he fought, and that was why she should be fighting. Now with Darvix alive, she had a reason to continue her battle against the Empire.

Enough of this for now, Cheriss thought to herself. She was on the one fine restaurant on board the Mon Remonda, Darvix's treat to her. She smiled inwardly as she looked over the young man, obviously uncomfortable in the suit he had probably borrowed from one of his wingmen. He was as happy to see her as she was happy to see him. Right now, that was all that mattered. Still, she wondered why Darvix seemed more on edge than usual.

"Are you alright, Darvix?" Cheriss asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Huh?" Darvix asked, snapping back to reality. "Sorry…Guess I've been thinking a lot lately."

"You shouldn't think so much," Cheriss chided, "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

Darvix laughed softly. Only months ago, that comment would have brought forth a quick and angry reply from him. He had matured a great deal in that time. Cheriss noticed that his organic hand was still in his pocket, where it had been the entire evening.

"Cheriss," Darvix said, "I know we've only known eachother for a few months, but I've been thinking a lot… I've never been quite as happy as I am when I'm with you, and I thank you just for allowing me to be in your presence.

This was going to go in one of two ways. Either Darvix was about to profess something rather profound, or he was about to dump her. If it was the latter, it would no doubt be the typical "I might die tomorrow, and I don't want to hurt you" spiel that so many men and women who were involved with the Military heard.

"I realized that I can't go a day without you," Darvix continued.

Eliminate the possibility of being dumped, Cheriss mused.

"And I know we're young…" Darvix said quietly, "But I've never been as sure of something as I am of this."

With that, Darvix left his seat and strode to Cheriss' side, falling on to one knee. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and revealed a small, velvet box. In one smooth motion, he opened it, revealing a small ring with a beautiful crystal atop it. Its tiny sides caught the faint light of the room, casting a crisp reflection into her eye.

"Will you marry me?" he asked softly, gazing steadfastly into her eyes.

Cheriss felt the tears welling up within her eyes. Her only response was to nod, and quickly throw her arms around Darvix, pressing her lips to his passionately. A few moments later, Darvix pulled back and slid the ring onto her finger.

***

* * *

She had never been so happy. Even behind the flightstick of her X-Wing, she couldn't control the feeling of joy that had been with her since dinner the previous night. Normally these routine patrols would frustrate her to no end, but not today. She had thoughts to keep her mind occupied.

"Rogue Leader, this is Six," Gavin's voice said over the communicator, "I've got some odd fluctuations on my scope, request permission to check it out."

"Granted, Six," Wedge replied. "Eleven, Two, form up and check it out with Six."

"Acknowledged," Darvix replied. Cheriss watched as he broke off from her wing and formed up with Gavin and Wes.

It was perhaps something that belonged in a holodrama, Cheriss mused as the events unfolded before her. It was so cliché it was almost funny. About a standard minute later, all hell broke loose on the routine patrol.

"No sign of anything visually," Gavin remarked. "Retuning my scopes to try and find-"

Cheriss watched in horror as green laser fire emerged from out of nowhere, soaring into the formation of X-Wings that had left the squadron to investigate. The three pilots quickly scattered and went evasive.

"Kriff," Janson yelled, "I've got no visuals on who fired those shots! Advise immediate retreat, I think we've just run into our Phantoms!"

"Get the hell out of here," Wedge ordered, "Take the easiest hyperspace routes out and regroup at the Mon Remonda!"

"Eleven is hit, Eleven is hit!" Gavin yelled.

Cheriss felt her heart sink, it wasn't supposed to happen this way!

"Eleven report on status," Wedge shouted into his comlink.

"Sublight engines down to quarter power," Darvix hastily replied. "Lateral controls are about shot, I've got no maneuverability."

"Plot in your coordinates and jump," Wedge said. "Go extra-vehicular if you have to, we'll send help. Rogues, get out of here now!"

Part of Cheriss immediately reverted back to the way she was raised. Her first instinct was the plot data into her nav-computer and escape to safety as she had been ordered, but something was stopping her. She threw her throttle to full and flew towards Darvix as fast as she could, throwing all available power to her engines.  
"Rogue Four disengage!" Wedge yelled. "Repeat, disengage and get out of here!"

Cheriss ignored her commanding officer, the first time she had ever done so. The last time she ever would.

"Get out of here, Four!" Darvix said, anguish in his tone.

Cheriss glanced to the right of her viewport. Darvix's injured snubfighter was crawling along, trying to get into place to jump out of the combat zone. The laser fire was getting closer to Darvix, and if she didn't do something soon, he would be dead. He had saved her life at Telos, and now it was her turn to return the gesture.

It happened so quickly she couldn't register the pain. With one quick jerk of the flightstick, she veered her X-Wing into the deadly fire that was intended to kill Darvix. She felt her snubfighter shake violently as the laser blasts tore into her hull. Klaxon alarms filled her snubfighter, alerting her to what she already knew was coming.

"I love you," she said into her microphone.

Moments later, the invisible enemy slammed into her X-Wing. When the flames dissipated, all that remained was charred and broken durasteel.

***

* * *

Darvix knew what happened almost the instant he heard the explosion. He tried to turn his wounded X-Wing around, to try and find any signs of Cheriss.

"Your coordinates are set!" Wedge bellowed. "Get out of here!"

He didn't reply. Cold dread gripped his heart as he cast his cybernetic eyes around the black space around him. She had to be out there somewhere. It couldn't end this way! It wasn't fair! His R2 unit, Zone, let out a fearful trill. Darvix looked at his sensorboard, and saw that the droid had been ordered to take over flight control.

"No!" Darvix screamed.

Before Darvix could do anything, his X-Wing leapt into hyperspace.

***

* * *

Not thirty minutes later, The Rogues had settled into their designated hanger bay of the Mon Remonda. Aware of the imminent danger the cruiser faced, the ship was ordered to immediately evacuate its patrol sector and return to Coruscant. All along the flight deck stood the Rogues, demoralized and stunned. They had just lost one of their family members in a routine patrol, and no matter how long each of them had served, the sting of such a loss was just as painful each time.

Wedge Antilles threw his gloves and helmet to the ground. He was as angry as he was any time he had lost one of his pilots. The Phantoms were a menace to the Republic, but now they had gone and hurt him and his family. The Imperials would pay for the crime they had committed.

"We're all accounted for," Tycho said solemnly as he placed a hand on Wedge's shoulder.

"All but one," Wedge returned.

"You and I couldn't have done anything to stop her," Tycho said. "She's a hero, she saved Darvix's life."

"Does it look like I care that she's a hero?" Wedge snapped. "No one should have to be a 'hero' like this. No one should have to die like this!"

Tycho only watched Wedge in silence. As long as he had known the man, Tycho knew that Wedge took on a great deal of responsibility when he lost one of his subordinates.

"Wedge," said another voice, Hobbie's voice. Wedge looked over to Hobbie, and saw him standing next to Wes underneath Darvix's damaged snubfighter. His heart sank as he walked over to the X-Wing and climbed up the ladder.

The image would be another nightmare that would haunt Wedge Antilles to his grave. Within the cockpit was the youngest Rogue, sobbing silently and holding something in his hand. As he looked closer, Wedge recognized the object as being an empty velvet box; the kind expensive jewelry would be purchased in.

The anger that had so tightly gripped on to Wedge's self since the disasterous skirmish was suddenly replaced by an icy numbness. The Empire had just shattered the future of one of his own.


	51. Repercussions

Chapter Five  
Repercussions

Captain Baron Soontir Fel burst out of the cockpit of his Phantom TIE-Fighter and raced towards the mass of pilots that had congregated around one of the other starfighters. Fel was livid; one of his own had thrown mission parameters to the wind. It had cost them one of their prized Phantoms, and had cost Fel one of his best pilots. As soon as the pilots saw their commanding officer storming towards them, they created a path for him. At the end was a young starfighter jockey, shaking in his flightsuit.

"What about 'do not engage' did you not get?" Fel demanded.

"Their transponders identified them as Rogue Squadron!" the blue-eyed pilot replied.

"I don't care if one of those ships had a sign that says 'I'm Wedge Antilles' on it!" Fel spat out. "You had your orders and you disobeyed them."

Fel could understand the younger pilot's plight. Perhaps if he was younger, he would have done the same thing. After all, it was difficult to turn down such an inviting target. Of course, command wouldn't care about the human thought-patterns behind the decision. They would want to know why Fel _didn't _order the attack. The young pilot had done exactly what Moff Celia and Captain Naolin would have wanted him to do. The Rogues had been a thorn in the side of this Phantom operation since its creation.

Captain Baron Soontir Fel wanted the Rogues to remain a thorn. He would make sure to drive it deeper into Celia's precious project.

***

* * *

"Though the Empire has taken her away from us," Wedge said quietly, "Cheriss' spirit will live on, as a beacon of hope for all those who fight tyranny and oppression. We will always remember Cheriss ke Hanadi: a true hero of the New Republic."

Wedge glanced around at the men and women who had lined the floor of Rogue Squadron's hanger on board the Mon Remonda. In the center of the hanger was an empty casket, flanked on each side by the Rogues, Cheriss' wingmen and only family. Most of Wedge's pilots looked on with faces devoid of emotion. For many of the Rogues, death had become a daily part of their lives. Over the years they had lost many friends and allies to the Empire. It was a part of their line of work, but it was no easy task to cope with. Wedge knew that beneath each pilot's mask was a tremendous amount of turmoil and sadness. The years of experience could never fully take away the shock of loosing someone so close.

He knew that some were holding up better than others. Wedge cast a glance at Darvix Zorvan. Hours before the ill-fated skirmish, he had proposed to Cheriss, and she had accepted. The future looked bright for him, but that hope was quickly snuffed out. Needless to say, Darvix had taken Cheriss' death harder than anyone else in the squadron. Wedge was worried about him. For a long while, he had been keeping tabs on Darvix's mental status. Early in the young pilot's career with the Rogues, he had suffered through a mental collapse that had put the entire mission in jeopardy. Wedge felt that he had never fully recovered from it, and he was concerned he would be dealing with a situation similar to that of Myn Donos all those years ago.

Wedge nodded to a deck hand across the hanger and watched as the casket slowly rose into the air. With a loud shot, it sailed through the Magcon seal where it would began its eternal voyage through the depths of space. It had long been a tradition to allow a pilot's final resting place to be the vacuum of space, and Wedge knew Cheriss would want it no other way.

***

* * *

Hours later, most of the Rogues had convened in the pilot's lounge that was often used for recreation during downtime. It was usually a place filled with warm-hearted conversation, a small escape from the harsh realities of war. On days such as this, even the lounge couldn't erase the tension and sadness on the minds of its occupants.

Wes Janson sat down at a table with a few other Rogues. Normally he would have told a few jokes by now, or made a few passes at other female officers if Inyri wasn't looking. Not today, however. All Wes Janson felt like doing now was being in the company of his fellow squadmates and simply enjoying their presence.

" 'lo, Wes," Hobbie said from beside Wes.

" 'lo, Hobbs," Wes said in turn, taking a sip from his mug of brandy.

For a long while, the two of them, along with tablemates Inyri Forge and Gavin Darklighter made small-talk. They spoke of everything from politics to sports in hopes that they could distract themselves from the events of the last few days. Wes could tell how hallow their words were. Each of them may have put on a tough front, but Wes knew they were all greatly saddened by the loss of one of their own.

He knew the topic would eventually come up during a moment of awkward silence, when they finally ran out of things to say.

"Has anyone seen Darvix?" Gavin asked.

Inyri shook her head, "Last I heard he was in his quarters. No one's spoken to him since the funeral."

Wes downed the rest of his brandy and stood up, walking out of the lounge before the other Rogues could inquire as to where he was going.

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan heard the door chime sound. He was tempted just to ignore it and act as if he were sleeping, but he had a feeling that whoever was at the door would persist in their quest to talk to him. Sighing in resignation, Darvix stood and walked to his door, keying for it to open?

"Yes?" Darvix asked.

Standing before him was Major Wes Janson. Before he had joined the Rogues, Janson had been his primary instructor at the Academy. Now he was one of his Superiors with the squadron. Darvix didn't need to talk to Janson right now.

"Come with me," Janson said bluntly.

Darvix shook his head, "Now really isn't a good time-"

"That's an order."

"Sir, with all due respect-"

"Do not make me ask twice," Wes barked.

Major Janson actually pulling rank, Darvix thought. How amusing. With a shrug, Darvix conceded defeat. The last thing he needed was some half-baked motivational speech from Janson. He had no desire to witness Janson's child-like antics in an attempt to cheer him up. Darvix didn't notice as his superior led him into one of the Mon Remonda's shuttle bays. He was too lost in thought to notice that Janson had led him to the entrance ramp of a Lambda Class shuttle.

"In," Janson ordered.

Heaving a sigh, Darvix boarded the shuttle and strapped himself in.

***

* * *

It was a quick flight to Coruscant's surface, and another quick ride to their destination. It was an unassuming looking office building. Darvix followed Wes, idly looking around at his dull surroundings. All around him were desks and terminals that lookd as if they hadn't been used in months. He lookd carefully at one of the engraved tags at the corner of one of the desks, reading "Cpt. Gavin Darklighter."

"Squadron headquarters," Wes said. "Sometimes we're given a reprieve from fighting and report here. Even pilots have paperwork to worry about."

Janson continued to lead Darvix through the building. At one point, they stopped at a set of double-doors. Janson keyed in a pass code, causing the doors to slide open with a soft mechanical whirr. Darvix slipped inside, casting his cybernetic eyes around the large room. Lined against the walls were a series of floor-mounted holoprojectors.

Wes slipped away to a nearby control panel, entering in a few commands. The overhead lights came to life, shaking away the shadows of the chamber. One by one, the holoprojectors came to life, each one displaying the image of an orange-clad pilot. Darvix slowly approached one, reading the name by the human male.

"My name was Garven Dreis," the image before Darvix said. "I commanded Red Squadron, which would soon after be transformed into Rogue Squadron by its survivors. Though I was shot down and killed over the Empire's first Death Star, my squadron successfully destroyed it."

"Normally," Wes said as he stepped next to Darvix, "This area is only opened to Rogues past and present, as well as their loved ones. Occasionally we let the general public pay their respects."

Darvix nodded and slowly walked down the row of holo-images, listening to the brief sound clip that accompanied each one. He stopped once more in front of another holoprojector, the name catching his eye.

"My name was Zev Senesca," the pilot before him said. "I was one of the original Rogues selected by Luke Skywalker and Wedge Antilles. I fought and died in the Battle of Hoth, but we managed to buy enough time for the Alliance to make an escape."

Darvix looked at the image for a few more moments before shaking his head, "I would have given anything to meet this man. I modeled my flying style after him…"

"Zev was always a quiet guy," Wes said. "One of the older pilots in the group, but he always commanded the most respect. Those months we spent on Hoth were awful, but we were together."

"…name was Dak Ralter," another image said. "I was the youngest added to the original Rogue Squadron roster. At Hoth, I served as Luke Skywalker's gunner aboard his T-47 speeder. An explosion in the gunner seat ended my life, but our squadron still bought the Alliance the time it needed."

Wes smiled slightly as the memories of the past came back to him, "Dak was a lot like you. Young and overconfident, thinking he could take on the Empire by himself. He brought a sort of youthfulness we needed desperately at Hoth…Dak was a great pilot. If he hadn't died there, I'm sure he would have been the stuff legends are made of. Come, I want to show you a few pilots in particular…"

Darvix walked alongside Wes, gazing at the pilots who had given their lives in service to Rogue Squadron and the Rebellion. There were so many, men and women from different species and worlds. Many had given up their lives in the early days of the Rebel Alliance, when hope for success against the Empire was nothing but a wild dream. They stopped in front of a blue-scaled Mon Calamari female.

"Her name was Ibtisam," Wes said. "One of the Rogues I flew with before I was sent to the Academy to teach. She fell in love with a Quarren named Nrin Vakil-"

"I was under the impression that those two species hated eachother."

"They do," Wes replied. "But Nrin and Ibtisam wanted to prove them wrong. Ibtisam died in the skies over Ciutric."

Wes walked further down the row, stopping infront of the image of a Bothan female, "This was Asyr Sei'lar. She was romantically involved with a much younger Gavin Darklighter since their meeting on Coruscant during the fall of the Imperial Government there. They went steady for years, and planned to marry. Shortly after the Thrawn crisis came to an end, Asyr was killed by an ambush on Rogue Squadron."

Darvix looked up at Wes, knowing that a conclusion was about to be drawn.

"Gavin and Nrin found themselves in similar situations, but decided to take different paths," Wes said. "Nrin never was the same after Ibtisam's death. Wedge was concerned about his ability to fight, and had him reassigned to the Academy and out of harm's way. Unfortunately, the resurgence of Iceheart brought him back to the Rogues, albeit temporarily. After that affair, he was assigned to another active-duty fighter squadron, but he wasn't the same pilot he once was.

"Nrin never regained that spark every pilot needs, and was reassigned to a desk-job not a month later," Wes said. "Gavin was another story. Yes, he was shaken by Asyr's death, but not for a moment did he loose his will to fight. If anything, it became stronger.

"The question now is this," Wes said, looking away from Darvix. "Are you going to be Nrin, or are you going to be Gavin?"

***

* * *

On board the Mon Remonda, Wedge Antilles and Garik "The Face" Loran sat at a conference table, stewing over the information in their datapads. It had only been hours since the funeral of one of their own, but there was vital work that had to be done. Wedge had informed Face that the Wraiths were being re-commissioned, but there were roster holes to deal with. They were short three pilots, and had an excruciatingly glaring hole at the position of code and terminal-slicer, a position vital to any intelligence team.

"I've got an idea for one of the pilots you could pick up," Wedge said. "Ru-Murleen Tavria."

Face raised a brow, "I don't believe I'm familiar with her."

"She trained pilots during the early days of the Rebellion," Wedge replied. "Damn good A-Wing pilot, but I have a feeling she could adjust to X-Wing controls easily. She did a lot of covert work with Intelligence during that time-frame as well, specializing in forward scouting. Just what you need."

"Sounds good," Face said with a nod. "I'll place a request for her transfer, provided she's still kicking around somewhere…but I still need a slicer."

Wedge grimaced. It was becoming a challenge to find anyone who would take up the offer to serve that role with the Wraiths. It had long been believed that the slicer position was cursed. Every code-slicer employed by Wraith Squadron seemed to die in a rather untimely manner.

"I can loan you someone," Wedge said. "But I want him back in one piece after you're finished with him."

"Oh, joy," Face said, "The benevolent General Antilles is letting a lowly peasant like myself play with his toys."

Wedge rolled his eyes and added one more name to the Wraith Squadron roster. Both of Wedge's squadrons were short a few men, but it was the best they could do.

"I believe Lieutenant Zorvan will suit your needs," Wedge said, shutting off his datapad.


	52. Changing Insignia

Chapter Six  
Changing Insignia

Corran Horn spun away from Darvix's vibrosword, parrying the attack with his own. Even without the Force, Corran could see Darvix wasn't his normal self. The younger Rogue's fighting style relied on speed rather than power, but Darvix was putting all his might into his attacks. It was a method that didn't bode well for Darvix. With each slash of his vibroblade, Darvix left himself open to be hit on his follow through. Corran had hoped he would correct the mistake, but with each subsequent slash and hack, Darvix's technique became worse.

Unable to let the combat go on further, Corran finally capitalized on Darvix's shoddy fighting. The younger pilot lunged forward, slashing across his body at the same moment. Corran ducked under the attack and leaned to his left, cocking his hand slightly to hit Darvix's back with the broad side of his blade.

"You're trying too hard," Corran said, sheathing his blade and setting it aside. "I've seen Bantha that were more agile than you were today."

"You just got lucky," Darvix replied, trying to rub the sting out of his back with his hand.

"There is no luck involved," Corran said, casting a stern glance at Darvix. "You're as unfocused as I've ever seen you."

"Imagine that," Darvix snapped in turn, his muscles tensing at Horn's chastising.

Corran sighed inwardly, "Keep your emotions in check, Darvix. Losing control of them shuts you off from the Force. Letting them control you leads you to the Dark Side."

Darvix stood upright and advanced towards Corran as if to argue. Corran was troubled by this point. Granted, Darvix had always been rather cocky about his abilities, and was easily flustered. Prone to anger? Never. Ever since returning from Nar Shadaa, Corran had felt a sort of pit of despair every time he was near Darvix. Something had happened to him during their last mission, and whatever it was, it was causing him to lean perilously close to the Dark Side of the Force. Corran had long known that the younger pilot was, at times, mentally unstable. They had chosen to keep that information quiet, for if command were to find out, Darvix would be civilian bound in a heartbeat. That was disastrous for someone like him, who had no skills to be successful in that world.

Before Darvix could mutter another word, the public address system came to life, "Lieutenant Darvix Zorvan, report to conference room Thirty-Three-Epsilon immediately."

Darvix glared at Corran for another moment before turning on his heels and storming off. Corran shook his head. He needed to talk to Luke.

***

* * *

Darvix tugged at the sleeves of the squadron jacket he had thrown on over his workout clothes. If he remembered correctly, this was the conference room that General Antilles and Captain Loran had been using to discuss strategies to use in the current campaign. Why he had been summoned was beyond him. His specialties as far as Intel went were slicing, and he seriously doubted that they were much use to them at that particular moment.

Settling into the military behavior that he despised so much, he keyed in the command to enter. As soon as he stepped into the conference room, he snapped a salute.

"Lieutenant Zorvan reporting as ordered," Darvix said in his most official-sounding tone.

Wedge casually waved down the salute as he read over his datapad, not even glancing at Darvix. Face Loran, the former child holodrama star, returned the salute, "That's 'reporting as ordered, _sir._' You're speaking with General Antilles and Admiral Loran."

"Admiral Loran?" Wedge asked, cocking an eyebrow. "I leave you alone for a few years and you develop these delusions of grandeur. What am I going to do with you?"

"Pay me a tidy sum and send me to live in a cozy little hut on Mon Calamari?" Face suggested.

"I'll pass," Wedge replied, setting his datapad down and swiveling in his seat to look at Darvix.

"I want you to know that the Rogues have been taken off the intelligence-gathering side of this fiasco," Wedge said evenly.

"Shouldn't you be telling this to someone like Colonel Celchu?" Darvix asked, confusion apparent in his voice.

"I said the Rogues have been removed from this task," Wedge stated once more.

Darvix blinked, still as confused as a Hutt in a fitness center, "I'm not following, sir."

Wedge stared back at Darvix, a look of utter seriousness on his face. He must have missed something. Did he forget to read his memos this morning? Did he fall asleep during the briefing at oh-nine-hundred?

"General," Face said, "I think you forget to tell him about the other thing."

"Ah, yes," Wedge replied with a grin, "You've been removed from Rogue Squadron."

It felt like a Gammorean had punched him in the stomach. Sure, Darvix realized that he was still a rather green pilot, but Darvix thought he had secured his position with the Rogues by now. He had proven he was an above-average pilot, hadn't he? Why was he being transferred?

"Furthermore," Wedge continued, "You're being placed into my _other_ snub squadron."

"Your…other squadron, sir?" Darvix asked. "What other squadron? Last I checked you were commanding officer of Rogue Squadron and Rogue Squadron alone."

"Someone didn't read this morning's High Command briefing very carefully," Wedge chided.

"Does anyone?" Face asked thoughtfully. "Mr. Zorvan, you're being transferred to an X-Wing unit that is being re-commissioned as we speak. Be aware, we're not your typical unit."

"He's right," Wedge said. "They're actually a bunch of Ewoks that have been trained to fly X-Wings specially modified for pilots of their stature."

Darvix could only stare. Was this some sort of joke…well, obviously Wedge's last comment was. He waited patiently for someone to clarify what the hell he was doing there.

"Wraith Squadron is really two kinds of military units," Face continued, glaring at Wedge. "An intelligence unit first, a fighter squadron second. The roster is comprised of individuals who are extremely proficient at various skills needed to serve as an active NRI cell. You've been added because of your ability to slice."

"Understand, though," Wedge followed up, "that this is only a temporary assignment. Provided that we can bring an end to this Phantom Crisis, you'll be transferred back to Rogue Squadron if you desire. Face will be your commanding officer…and you will serve as his executive officer."

Darvix raised a brow, "A promotion?"

"Once again, temporary," Wedge said. "Unless you demonstrate otherwise. In order to keep me out of hot water with NRI and starfighter command, I'm granting you a promotion to Lieutenant-Commander-"

"So it looks like you actually deserve this position," Face added.

"You're role with Wraith Squadron is two-fold," Wedge said, tossing a crumpled up sheet of flimsy at Face. "Obviously, you're serving as their slicer. Face will keep you informed of what needs to be done as far as that goes. Secondly, you are in charge of ensuring that the Wraiths are ready to fly. These are good pilots, but they aren't the Rogues. They haven't been behind the flightstick in years, so it's your job to make sure they don't crash into eachother."

"In other words, you get to be the big, bad voice during simulator runs that tells us what lousy fliers we are," Face said. "Have five or six scenarios programmed and ready to go."

"Yes, sir," Darvix replied. "When will you need them by?"

Wedge frowned and glanced at his wrist chronometer, "About two hours from now."

Darvix blinked once more before snapping a quick salute, turning to run out of the conference room to tend to his new duties.

"You never get tired of the Ewok thing, do you?" Face asked, an amused grin on his lips.

"Yub-Yub, Admiral Loran."

***

* * *

The screen in front of Corran Horn finally came to life. Displayed before him was a golden droid, causing Horn to let out an annoyed groan.

"Good evening, Master Horn," See-Threepio said. "How may I be of service?"

"Just put Luke on the communicator, will you, Goldenrod?" Corran ordered. _Force, I hate protocol droids…_

"I'm sorry, but Master Skywalker is not on Yavin Four today," the droid replied.

"Well where is he?" Corran demanded. _Especially this protocol droid…_

The droid cocked its head to the side for a moment, considering, "He is en route to Coruscant. Shall I send a message to him?"

"Please," Corran said. "Tell him that I need to talk to him as soon as he can. It's urgent…He'll know where to find me."

"As ordered, sir," Threepio replied. "Might I say that it's good to hear from-"

Before the pesky droid could finish that thought, he shut the communicator off. _I need a drink_


	53. Reunion

Chapter Seven  
Reunion

Face was beginning to wonder why he was upset the Wraiths were broken up in the first place. As he looked at his former squadmates, he began to feel the insanity creep out of the dark recesses of his brain and return to the forefront of his very being. He remained standing still as a glider, constructed out of a sheet of flimsy, flew into the side of his face. Face wondered idly if Cracken had the right idea, breaking this group of misfits up.

The briefing room was filled with the roars of conversation, old friends catching up after years of separation. Eight former Wraiths and one new member of the family acted completely oblivious to their situation. They had been recalled and reformed because of crisis, but it didn't mean a thing. Together, they had survived some of the worst the Empire could have thrown at them, and they would be damned if the enemy's latest scheme planned to get in the way of their friendship.

Face admired that about the group, but they had other matters to attend to.

"If I could command your attention for just a few moments," Face said, raising a hand.

"Depends," Kell Tainer, perhaps the tallest man ever to don a flightsuit. "Are you going to tell us that we have to do something painful or otherwise would constitute being classified as work?"

"Yes, and yes."

"Then, no, you can't have our attention."

Laughter filled the briefing room, bringing back memories of days gone by. Even if the Empire brought the Wraiths to a flaming, painful, explosive end, they would have all sorts of fun in the process. This beats the hell out of NRI work, Face mused.

"Shove it, Demo Boy," Face replied with a wide grin. "I don't even have to explain why we're all here, but suffice to say, we're here. I know most of you have just completed some very long flights to get here, but we have no time for relaxation. As soon as we're finished here, we report to the simulator bay."

The laughter was quickly replaced with groans of disapproval. That disapproval would become flat out disdain in a few minutes, when they saw how difficult the simulations Darvix had designed were.

"As you can see," Face continued, "We have a new Wraith with us. Captain Tavria, if you could stand…"

From the back of the room, a human female stood. She was about average height, considering she was a female pilot. Her sandy-blonde hair was a perfect match for her slightly tanned skin.

"I'm Ru-Murleen Tavria," she said. "You can call me Ru…or the Darling One, or Supreme Goddess of Beauty, or-"

"Thank you, Captain," Face said, motioning for her to sit. _Well so much for hoping she would be the sane one of the bunch. _

"Your executive officer is preparing the simulations as we speak," Face said. "You can beat him into submission after you're finished."

"Captain Loran understands that we will no doubt hold him responsible when we do pummel the honorable XO," Runt replied.

"Which one of your minds is speaking?" Kell, Runt's former wingman, asked.

The large Thakwaash pilot gave a rough approximation of a human grin, "That would be our terminally lazy mind, who happens to be very angered that we are forced to work."

***

* * *

"Two flight, report in," Kell's voice said over the static-filled communicator.

"Wraith Four, all green lights," Runt replied. "We are ready to fly."

"Three here," Captain Tavria keyed in. "Does this X-Wing make my butt look big?"

Shalla Nelprin shook her head and reported her status to her wing leader. Fifteen minutes into the simulator run, it was still quiet. Probably a stunt to lull her into a false sense of security. As she glanced at her forward sensor readouts, she noticed they were moving closer towards an asteroid field.

"Unusual readings on the advanced aft sensors," Kell said. "Two flight, circle around and take a look. Stay in Diamond-V formation."

Shalla pulled back gently on her flightstick, applying slight pressure to one of her etheric rudder pedals. She looked back at her sensor boards once more, trying to decipher what readings they were picking up.

"Visual confirmation," Runt said. "We see two ImpStar Deuces emerging from hyperspace at a vector of five degrees."

"Fighter screen deploying," Ru-Murleen followed up. "Only one full regiment. The other Destroyer looks like its trying to box us in."

"Four against twelve," Kell mused aloud. "I'm not a big fan of those odds. What do we do when we're outnumbered?"

"Turn tail and flee like the little cowards we are?" Runt suggested.

Shalla could almost hear the grin on Kell's face, "I knew you were a smart one. Two flight, make an about-face and set your laser batteries to drain into engine power. Keep shields at constant maintenance."

"You want us to fly [i]into[/] that asteroid field?" Shalla asked, stunned.

"They'd be crazy to follow us."

"We'd be crazy to go in there!"

"You're not frightened, are you Shalla?" Kell asked, his voice teasing.

Shalla grinned and spun her X-Wing away from the Star Destroyer and the oncoming flight of TIE Interceptors. With her laser batteries redirected to her sublight engines, her X-Wing had picked up enough speed to stay slightly ahead of the quick enemy snubs, which Republic pilots typically called Squints due to their slim profiles. She felt the knot in her stomach ease as the distance between her and the enemy increased, but it would only return tenfold as the asteroids began to fill her viewport.

She flexed her fingers over the flightstick as she began her flight into the asteroid field. The Interceptors were still a fair distance behind her, but she would have to throttle back to safely navigate through the field. As she set the thrusters to seventy-five percent speed, she settled in behind Captain Tavria's snubfighter, following her flight path carefully. Shalla winced as smaller rock fragments smashed into her forward shields.

A bright flash from beside her illuminated her cockpit. Casting a quick glance at her sensor readouts, she saw that Runt had vanished. She assumed he had collided with an asteroid, and if she wasn't careful, she would share his fate. Shalla looked forward just in time to see a rock, approximately the size of her astromech, infront of her. Throwing her stick to the left, she veered out of the flightpath of the asteroid, only to have to duck under another one.

Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, green laser fire shot past her viewport. Seconds later, Captain Tavria's X-Wing took a dual-linked shot and burst into a ball of flame and durasteel. Shalla rode through the explosion, spotting another asteroid just in time to fly over it. Her pursuer wasn't so lucky. Moments later, her astromech unit reported that the Interceptor had smashed into the asteroid.

As she looked above her, she spotted Kell Tainer spin away from oncoming fire, only to have his port-side S-Foils slam into an asteroid. His X-Wing spun out of control, the fuselage slamming into another asteroid moments later. A loud trill from her astromech told her that she was nearing the outer edge of the asteroid field. If she could hold off her pursuers just a little longer, she could make a quick blind-jump into hyperspace.

Ahead of her, Shalla caught sight of a hollowed-out asteroid. The ring-shaped rock slowly was spinning so the opening faced her. Gritting her teeth, she threw her throttle to full, aiming the nose of her X-Wing at the opening. As she rode through it, she felt the vibration of an explosion, no doubt one of her pursuers. Moments later, her viewport gave way to clear space. Without hesitation, she threw the hyperdrive lever forward, and the screen in front of her streaked white, and then faded to black.

***

* * *

  
Shalla Nelprin exited the simulator pod moments later, wiping the sweat off her brow. She hadn't sat behind the flightstick of a snubfighter or a simulator in years, yet that didn't stop this unnamed executive officer from putting her through one of the toughest simulations she had ever seen. With a sigh, she pulled off the chin snap on her helmet and set it on the floor. Looking around, she saw the rest of Two Flight standing in the middle of the simulation bay, beckoning her to join them.

"Well, at least one of us lived," Kell grumbled aloud.

Before Shalla could reply, the intercom in the simulator bay hissed to life, "Well done, Miss Nelprin. I didn't expect you to get out of that in one piece."

"Must be our XO," Ru-Murleen said.

"Two flight," the voice said, "you're finished with simulations for the day. You're orders are to proceed to the pilot's lounge, and drink yourselves silly."

"You know," Shalla mused, "instead of wanting to kill him, I think I want to give our XO a hug, and buy him a drink."

***

* * *

Not long after their simulator runs had finished, Wraith Squadron had assembled in the pilot's lounge to enjoy some well-deserved downtime. Each flight had been subjected to three grueling simulations their executive officer had dreamed up. Scores had reflected that most of them hadn't touched a starfighter flightstick in ages.

Face Loran and another pilot slipped in to the lounge not long after the rest of the Wraiths had assembled there. After several failed attempts, he finally managed to quiet down his squadron.

"Wraiths, I'd like to introduce you to Darvix Zorvan," he said. "He'll be serving as our slicer, and is designated Wraith Ten."

"Isn't he a little young to be playing with the big boy's toys?" a Devaronian from the back of the room asked with a snicker.

"Agreed," Shalla said, raising a brow at the young pilot. "I don't think he's even old enough to grow facial hair."

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you," Face said. "Lieutenant Commander Zorvan designed the simulations you were put through today, and will be serving as your Executive Officer until further notice. Do try and play nice with him, he's on loan to us from General Antilles."

"Did something to vape your career already?" the Devaronian asked. "What a shame, so young."

"Excuse me?" Darvix asked.

From one of the back tables, the figure of a large Gammorean chuckled. In a mechanical tone, he said, "We're a squadron of screwups and rejects. If you haven't obliterated your career, we'll have to do it for you."

Darvix only blinked, turning to glance at Face, "Maybe Wedge was on to something when he said this was a squadron filled with Ewoks..."

"No," Face said, "a squadron full of Ewoks would have a much higher mental capacity than this collection of misfits."

As Face left to converse with his fellow pilots, Darvix could only stare at the Wraiths. What have I gotten myself into? Darvix asked himself.


	54. The Pretenders

_Edit: Sorry, uploaded the wrong chapter earlier_

Chapter Eight  
The Pretenders

Long ago, Lara Notsil had vowed she would never set foot aboard an Imperial cruiser again. Since she had left the service of Warlord Zsinj and the Empire, Lara had forsaken her birth name and her past. Unfortunately, that left her struggling to find a future. She couldn't turn to the Republic, for her treasonous crimes against them would only bring about her execution. Still, that didn't cause her loyalty to the New Republic waver in the slightest.

That was what brought her here, to the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer the Ender. The Republic was in danger, and she felt it was her duty to put an end to the crisis. Many times in her past she had masqueraded as someone else, as an alternate identity. It was a skill that had brought her into Wraith Squadron, a skill that showed her the faults of the Empire she had served under for so long. It was that skill that brought her back into the service of the Empire, as an unofficial spy for the New Republic.

Obviously, she couldn't return under the alias of Gara Petothel, the name she was born with. Warlord Zsinj had discovered her secret, and it had nearly cost her life. Now she was Renica Nexilles, an experimental technologies specialist. She had forged the documents which had been submitted to the Captain of the Ender, declaring she had once worked for Seinar Fleet Systems before leaving to pursue her own career. She had sliced into the ImpNet communications a few days earlier and had learned that one of the leading designers of the Phantom project had disappeared off Nar Shadaa. She knew the Rogues had been involved, that was why Myn had shown up at Corellia. Even so, with that technician missing, the Ender needed a new designer to continue work on the Phantoms.

Unbeknownst to the Imperials, Lara Notsil's ultimate goal was to throw a hydrospanner into their pet project.

***

* * *

Lara found herself in the high-security hanger bay that held the Phantom Fighters. According to the official reports, twelve Phantom D-34 TIE Fighters had been commissioned and built. Since the initial construction, one tri-winged snubfighter had been stolen from the production facility on the surface of Telos, and another had been lost in combat only a week earlier.

During her service with the Empire, Lara had heard of several attempted, and failed, projects that deployed cloaking devices. Towards the middle of the Galactic Civil War, former Imperial Admiral Zaarin had developed a cloaking system that was used on a Corellian Blockade Runner. Ultimately, it had failed, leaving Zaarin disgraced. The power drain on a ship was too great, but somehow, Naolin had pulled it off this time.

She knew there must be some sort of weakness in the Phantom's cloaking device, but the trick would be to find it. She had everything at her disposal now, except for the knowledge that the missing head designer had. Kelin Sokyr had been neatly tucked away on Nar Shadaa, but he had vanished, and the Imperial officers assigned to him had been killed. Without him, it would be painful to unlock the weaknesses behind the Phantom.

"New to the Ender?" a new voice behind her asked. "I don't believe I've seen you here before."

Lara turned around, only to find herself looking up at a rather broad-shouldered pilot. It was Fel! She had seen holoimages of him all over the Galaxy, but he had disappeared after defecting to the Republic prior to the fall of Coruscant. What was he doing here, back in the Empire's service?

"Yes," Lara replied. "I'm Captain Nexilles."

What happened next surprised her. Fel moved right next to her and whispered harshly into her ear, "I know why you're here, Petothel…or is it Notsil now?"

Lara felt as if someone had knocked the wind out from her lungs. How could her cover have been blown so quickly? She had done everything in her power to cover her tracks.

"My quarters as soon as your shift is over," Fel said. "We need to talk."

***

* * *

Lara glanced around at Fel's quarters. Despite taking a demotion from colonel to captain, he still had one of the more luxurious living spaces the Ender had to offer. For a war-time pilot, she was a bit surprised to see all of the potted plants and shrubs he kept. Perhaps this was the softer side of Fel that many never saw.

"You're sure this room is clean?" Lara asked, casting a cautious eye around the room once more.

Fel nodded his reply, "I already swept it for bugs and taps, we're safe."

Lara nodded, staring at Fel for a moment, "Last I heard, you had vanished from Rogue Squadron's service, and no one has heard from you since. Are you still working for the Republic, or have you joined the Empire again?"

"That is of little importance now," Fel replied. "All you need to know is that we're both trying to end the same project."

"You're with the Republic, then."

Fel shook his head, "I'm neither with the Republic, nor this Empire. Now isn't the time for that, though. We need to deal with the immediate crisis."

Lara didn't like how enigmatic Fel was being, but did she have any choice but to listen to him? He hadn't blown her cover yet, but he easily could if she didn't go along with this. "I'm listening."

"We both know that this program must be brought to an end," Fel said, "but we've got to do it the right way."

"If you wanted this done so bad," Lara replied, "you could have dealt with it yourself. You've got access to the Phantoms."

"If I destroy them, then Naolin will just build more. Yes, we have to stop these starfighters, but we also have to put an end to the root."

"What exactly do you propose, then?" Lara asked.

Fel glanced at her for a moment before walking to one of his potted plants, picking up a small container of water to wet down the soil, "We have to deliver Naolin and Moff Celia into the Republic's hands. As fragmented as the Empire is right now, the Phantom project would never take off again without those two spearheading it."

"You want to try a similar stunt that the Republic employed against Warlord Zsinj," Lara said. "Apparently my exploits travel fast."

When Lara's cover had been blown during her service with Wraith Squadron, she had defected back to the Empire, serving as an unofficial double-agent. She had created a piece of software to piggyback on Warlord Zsinj's Super Star Destroyer that signaled its location to the New Republic fleet. Had she had more time to refine it, the plan could have gone off without a hitch, and the Republic could have brought an end to Zsinj's reign of terror much sooner.

"I trust you can get something in place," Fel said. "We'll implement it when the time is right."

They stood in silence for a few moments, contemplating the task at hand. It was up to the two of them to bring an end to the Empire's latest weapon, a daunting task to say the least.

"I have to know something," Lara said. "Where have you been?"

Baron Fel sighed and sat down on an ejector seat that doubled as a desk chair, "I received a message not long after Rogue Squadron's disaster involving State Pestage, an Imperial Admiral that had been sent to the Unknown Regions by Emperor Palpatine."

"Thrawn," Lara murmered.

"Precisely," Fel continued with a nod. "He offered me a position on board his Star Destroyer, commanding one of his elite TIE units…it was an offer I couldn't refuse."

"A few fancy messages and you abandon the Republic?" Lara scoffed. "Serves you right for following him into a dead end."

"You have to understand my motivations," Fel pleaded. "I can never raise a family with the government in turmoil. My wife is on the run from both sides, and wouldn't be welcomed in either side in its current states… Back then, the Empire was in shambles, and the Republic was weak. I thought Thrawn had what it took to bring stability to the Galaxy…but I was wrong."

"So why help the Republic now?"

"The lesser of two evils, I suppose. Without Thrawn, the Empire will never be as it once was. This Empire is dieing, and there is no reversing it. At least this way I can speed up the process a little and hope that the Republic can do better."

"You could return to the Republic after all is said and done," Lara reasoned. "I'm sure you could use your influence to ensure you and your wife could be happy within the Republic."

"It's not that simple," Fel said. "Mark my words, Notsil. This Republic is not going to survive much longer. The Empire may not bring an end to it, but something else will. Already it's clear that the same corruptness that doomed the Empire's government is beginning to creep into the Republic. The moment an epic crisis stares them in the face, they will crumble and crush the citizens they've sworn to protect. I will not subject my wife to that kind of danger and uncertainty."

Lara frowned and shook her head, turning her back to Fel and moving towards the door, "I don't agree with you about a great deal of what you believe, Fel…but at least we can agree that we need to put an end to the Phantoms."

With that, Lara walked out of Fel's quarters. What a task, she thought to herself. The future of the New Republic rested in the hands of two seemingly loyal servants of the Empire. Lara knew this masquerade was more important than any role she had ever assumed before.

"I'm sorry, Myn," Lara said quietly to herself, "But I have to get involved now."


	55. Questionable Tactics

Chapter Nine  
Questionable Tactics

Darvix Zorvan entered in his security clearance at the small terminal in front of the door leading to the brig. One of the perks to his temporary promotion as an Executive Officer was additional security privileges that allowed him into areas such as the Mon Remonda's high-security prison.

The moment he set foot in to the primary hallway of the brig, a silver protocol droid stopped him in his tracks, "Please state purpose for entry."

"Classified," Darvix replied. "Security Override code Eight-Niner-Tango."

The droid stared at Darvix for a moment, processing the information that he had just told it. After what seemed like an eternity to Darvix, the droid stepped aside.

"Clearance confirmed," the droid stated. "You have one standard hour, Lieutenant Commander Zorvan."

With a nod, Darvix proceeded past the droid and down the hallway. To his left and right were mostly empty cells, shielded by electrically charged fields to prevent prisoner escape. The corridor itself was rather dimly lit, only a few light fixtures overhead to cast away the shadows of the otherwise dreary prison bay. Near the end of the hallway, Darvix finally found the man he was looking for.

He could have been one of Palpatine's little poster boys. Blue eyes, blonde hair, chiseled features. It was a wonder he hadn't gone into holodramas. Just the sight of him made Darvix sick to his stomach. Taking a breath to settle himself, he glanced at his chronometer. A few more moments, and he'd be able to go to work.

Hours earlier, he had sliced into the Mon Remonda's security system to place a piggyback-program into the audio and video recorders. The last thing he wanted was for this little session to be recorded, for the repercussions would be terrible. Unfortunately, it had to be done. He entered in the command to lower the field and stepped into the containment cell.

"Kelin Sokyr," Darvix said, addressing the man held within the small room. "Please come with me."

The man only responded with a grunt. Darvix waited patiently, fully expecting the man would continue to ignore him. After a few more moments, he stepped forward to the man sitting on the small bed, staring at the ground. Grabbing the man by the collar, Darvix brought him to his feet.

"You will respond when I address you," Darvix barked, slamming the man against the nearby wall. "Now we're going to have a little chat."

With that, he shoved the Imperial technician out of the cell, roughly leading him down the corridor. He stopped in front of a very strong looking door, one of the interrogation rooms in the prison bay. After keying in the command to open the door, Darvix shoved the Imperial within it.

"Sit," Darvix ordered, gesturing to one of the chairs behind a grey table.

The Imperial gave Darvix a cold stare for a moment before taking a seat as ordered, "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I would be the slicer that outdid you," Darvix replied, resting his back against a wall.

Darvix smiled inwardly as he saw the mix of anger and embarrassment build within the former Seinar Fleet technician. I'm going to make your life a living hell, Darvix mused.

"I've been told you have been rather uncooperative with our intelligence types," Darvix said. "It's a shame really, they are rather friendly."

He stepped towards Sokyr, slamming his hands on the table, "You'll find that I'm anything _but_ friendly."

Darvix didn't flinch when the man opposite of him spit into his cybernetic eye, "I've got nothing to say to you, rebel scum."

"Very well," Darvix said, wiping the saliva onto his sleeve, "I grew up in an Imperial world, you know… I watched the Imperial officers abuse the citizens below them. I can play your game."

Without betraying an emotional expression upon his face, Darvix grabbed the other man's hand with his own cybernetic hand. He bent back the technician's ring finger with all his might, expressionless as a sickening snap filled the room, followed by the man's blood curdling scream.

"I do hope you'll talk now," Darvix chided. "I'd rather not have to do that again."

"You'll never get away with this," Sokyr said with a shaky voice.

Darivx let out a half-amused laugh, smiling tightly, "Quite the contrary, I already have gotten away with it. We're not being recorded, and they would never believe you if you told them what I have done to you, and plan to do to you if you choose not to be cooperative."

"Burn in hell, Rebel," the technician said with a grunt, still nursing his injured hand.

"I'll take you with me," Darvix said, fixing the man with an icy cold glare. He gritted his teeth as he felt his hands clench. This was the man who took Cheriss away from him. This was the man he could never forgive. Darvix would get the information he needed, he was confident about that. Then Darvix would kill him, slowly and painfully. His cybernetic arm reared back, and the room filled with the sound of flesh on flesh as his fist landed squarely on the man's jaw.

"You took someone very important away from me," Darvix said with a false sense of calmness. "Do not toy with me. I'm being generous right now…I should disembowel you where you sit. You're on your first strike with me, don't count on my generosity lasting longer."

"Why should I help you?" Sokyr demanded. "Why should I betray the Empire to assist scum like you? What would I gain?"

A cold sneer formed on Darvix's lips, and slowly he raised his hand. Kelin Sokyr watched in horror as Darvix's hand seemed to clench against some imaginary object. Moments later, Kelin felt as if his neck were caught in a vice. He couldn't breathe, he was being suffocated!

"You'll help me," Darvix said, "Because you don't want to die. You'll help me because you're a coward-" He lowered his hand, releasing Kelin Sokyr from the force-induced choke hold he had put him through. "Second strike, Mr. Sokyr. I advise you cooperate."

***

* * *

Darvix left the interrogation room moments later. As he walked out of the prison bay, he turned to the droid, "Have a medical team tend to the prisoner in interrogation room five. He injured himself in a struggle."

"As ordered," the droid said. "May I be of further assistance?"

"Tell NRI that the prisoner has agreed to cooperate," Darvix continued. "Advise they send an interrogation party immediately."

Turning on his heels, Darvix walked out of the prison bay, a half-smile playing upon his lips. Within him the fire that had been burning strong since Cheriss died had alleviated slightly. He was confident he would get his revenge.

***

* * *

"I don't get it," Wedge said. "We could have, and should have been vaped on the spot."

Tycho Celchu shook his head as he watched over the video logs from the disastrous patrol several days earlier. They had been ambushed by the Phantom Fighters, that much was clear. Prior logs had shown they had made short work of any Republic fighter screen to come in contact with them, yet they passed up on vaporizing every last Rogue. Certainly that was too good of a target to pass up, so why where they still alive?

"It makes perfect sense to me," piped in Major Lysa Chanaan. She had joined the Rebellion at a young age prior to the Battle of Hoth, and had split service time between Intelligence and Starfleet Command. Her skills as a strategist and analyst were unparalleled.

"Think about it. Chances are the Imperials know that Rogue Squadron has botched up their work on Telos and Nar Shadaa. You've got their technician. They think we know something important, and are playing it safe."

"But we don't know anything!" Wedge groaned.

"Exactly, so let's use that to our advantage," Lysa replied.

Wes shook his head, staring at them from across the conference table, "Let me get this straight. We're going to pretend we know something they don't know, while in reality we don't know a thing?"

"Precisely."

Hobbie Klivian, the resident skeptic, sighed and rested his head in his arms, "We're kriffin' doomed."

Wedge considered for a moment, before a smile formed on his lips.

"Oh no," Hobbie said, staring at Wedge with a Jawa-in-the-headlights look, "Everytime you smile like that someone gets hurt, usually me."

"I think I've got an idea," Wedge mused.

"I was afraid he'd say that," Hobbie countered.


	56. The Best Laid Plans

_Author's note: This post was written by a good friend of mine_. _You can read her fics here under the user profile Annie789._

Chapter Ten  
The Best Laid Plans

"Do you know how hard it is to reach Luke Skywalker?" Corran crossed his arms and leaned against the couch, a frustrated look on his face.

"Still no luck?" Gavin asked, taking a seat on the arm of the chair opposite him.

"Why are you and Luke Skywalker suddenly all buddy buddy?" Inyri asked, her eyes narrowing.

"No real reason. I just wanted to talk with him about something. A Jedi thing."

Inyri's gaze didn't let up. "Did something happen to Mirax again?"

Corran blinked, then started to laugh. "No. No, it's nothing like that. I'm just worried about Darvix. He's so angry…"

"Of course he is." Inyri shook her head, "Corran, he just lost everything."

"Everything is a bit of an extreme…"

"His soulmate, his future life with her, any children they may have had…the important things are gone. He's not going to just magically," she snapped her fingers, "Be happy."

Gavin shook his head. "It takes so much time, there are parts that never quite heal. There are still songs I'll hear, or a joke from earlier days in the squadron that someone will make, and it brings back every memory of Asyr in a rush. It's so hard to act as if it doesn't affect me, because it does."

"Do you remember when you thought Mirax was gone?"

Gavin frowned, "Which time?"

Inyri nudged him with her elbow. "And you ran off to be a Jedi and do Force knows what crazy things during that time."

"I remember the emptiness, the knowledge that I'd do anything to bring her back…the visions of everything that was ruined…" Corran trailed off. "But that was completely different. I wasn't…there wasn't blind anger."

"It's because she wasn't dead," Inyri replied. "Look, I'm not trying to rationalize his actions or his emotions. I'm just trying to help you see where he's at. Maybe you can cut him some slack. Grief does things to people."

"It's different for the Jedi. It has permanent ramifications."

Inyri and Gavin exchanged glances. Before either had a chance to respond, the door opened.

"Where's the Whyren's?" Janson moved towards the bar at the side of the room.

"Did something happen?" Gavin asked, watching Hobbie join Janson in the search for the requested bottle.

"Nah, it's nothing. Hobbs just wants a last drink before he gets to go play in the Bacta Tank again," Janson replied. "Think of it this way, Hobbie, it's a great chance for you to soften your skin. You haven't been dunked for awhile, you know."

"Wedge has an idea," Hobbie explained. "Wes is giving me a hard time."

"You know, you really should contact the Bacta Cartel about being their spokesman," Janson continued, not missing a beat.

Hobbie shot a mournful look at the group reclining on the furniture. "Inyri, help."

"If you can't stop him, why do you think I can?" Inyri rolled her eyes. "You're the best Wes-wrangler known to the galaxy."

"Then I fear for the galaxy," Hobbie replied.

"Found it!" Janson held up his prize. "Horn, who is that guy who used to be a Rogue and works for the Bacta people?"

Corran groaned. "Oh, memories best left forgotten. Bror Jace."

"There you go, Hobbs. Contact him, use your Rogue Squadron experience for networking, and make a little extra cash on the side endorsing Bacta." Janson grinned as he poured Hobbie a drink.

"What was it that Tycho said about there not being enough power in the galaxy to help?" Hobbie asked, reaching for the glass.

"Help what?" Gavin asked.

"Bring Wes up to an emotional age of fifteen," Hobbie explained.

"Not Darth Vader and the dark side of the Force, or the nuclear power of an exploding sun," Janson replied. "Or something like that."

* * *

"Do I want to ask what you three are up to?" Tyria appeared at the head of the table, glancing down at the pieces of flimsy that were scattered around.

"Probably not," Kell replied, a grin tugging at his mouth.

"Uh-huh." Tyria raised an eyebrow. "Kell, are you blowing something up?"

Kell blinked, maintaining as much innocence on his face as he could. "Tyria, my love, what makes you think I'm going to blow something up?"

"Because you're wearing the 'I'm about to blow something up' look," she replied, amused.

Shalla snorted. "Great job, Tainer. You totally kept the mission undercover."

Tyria turned her attention away from her husband to Shalla and Runt. "I probably shouldn't ask, but how exactly are you two involved?"

"We like explosions," Runt replied quickly. "Watching them brings us great joy."

"We're planning to write an epic poem describing Kell's boom," Shalla added.

"Uh-huh." She suddenly dove for one of the scraps of flimsy. Kell realized what she was after half a second too late, and Tyria held her prize aloft.

"Tyria…it isn't what you think." Kell pouted, watching her as she read over his schematic.

"I'm thinking you're planning a practical joke on someone," she replied. "Okay, where's Janson?"

"Huh?" Shalla frowned.

"I know he's involved. This practically screams Wes Janson, with a small Kell twist, as these containers you're using to hold stuff in will eventually explode and drench the victim in Force knows what substance." She squinted at the hastily scribbled handwriting on the diagram. "Looks like ketchup."

"Hey! We came up with that all on our own," Runt protested.

"Yeah, maybe one of Runt's minds has decided to be Janson," Shalla added.

"Force help us." Kell murmured. "Does Face know yet?"

"He'll figure it out sooner or later," Runt joked.

"Not funny, guys." Tyria shook her head. "So, who exactly is this elaborate set-up for? The new squadron members?"

The three conspirators exchanged looks, none venturing to speak.

"You do realize this is juvenile, right? I suppose you're even calling it an initiation."

"She's good," Shalla told Kell in a stage whisper.

"In addition to her stunning beauty, she's also highly intelligent. That's why I married her," he replied in a similar fashion.

"Face is in on it, too, isn't he?" Tyria asked.

"He's not in on it, per se," Runt replied. "He knows we're doing it, but he said he doesn't want to know what we're planning. Something about it being better if our CO wasn't involved in any sort of initiation routine."

"I told him he should participate," Shalla put in, "As it would help add to our team unity."

Tyria studied the schematic. "How exactly did you plan on rigging this up while they're sleeping?"

"Being really quiet?" Kell replied, still feigning innocence.

"Or hope that they're really heavy sleepers. You forgot the heavy sleepers part," Runt told Kell.

"That's still pretty risky. If you want to do it right, slip them a sleeping pill or something." Tyria continued to study the schematic. "Either that, or have me set up the parts in the actual bedrooms."

Kell exchanged a look with Shalla and Runt, then looked up at her. "Are you saying you'll help us?"

"Kell, you wound me." Tyria laid a hand across her heart. "What better way is there to say 'I love you' than conspiring with someone to pull an immature prank on a poor, helpless victim?"

Kell grinned. "I knew there was a reason I married you."

* * *

"So, how's it feel to have your people back together again?" Wedge asked, scanning the menu at the take-out counter. What had Iella asked for again?

"Well, do you remember what happened to your sanity when you worked with the Wraiths?" Face asked.

"It decided to take a permanent vacation?" Wedge asked.

"Got it in one." Face grinned.

"You know, you reach a point where you just stop missing your sanity all together. Once there, everything gets a lot easier." If he brought the wrong thing home for Iella to eat, would she accuse him of not listening to her?

"I'll have to remember that." Face paused. "They're up to something already."

"This surprises you?" Wedge asked, amused.

"No, don't worry, I'm not that naïve," Face reassured him. "I'm well aware of standard operating procedure in Wraith Squadron. I am starting to wonder about what they're going to do, though."

"Did you ask?" Salads…did Iella like salads? He'd seen her eat them from time to time, but usually in combination with something else.

"You know, it's usually best not to know what they're going to do," Face pointed out.

"Ah, it's like when Wes says 'you don't want to know.' Sooner or later…Boom."

"Probably." Face shrugged. "All I know is that Kell, Shalla, and Runt were conspiring to do some sort of initiation ritual on the new members of the squadron."

"Can I take your order, sir?" The woman behind the counter interrupted their conversation.

Decision time. Wedge frowned at the menu, then motioned to the middle panel. "I'll take that."

"Which one, sir?" She turned to look at the sign behind her.

"The three sandwiches, the different soups, the salad, and that desert-looking-thing."

The cashier frowned, "But, sir, that's the whole center portion of the menu."

"He's a freak medical experiment," Face explained to the woman. "He has four stomachs."

She looked at Wedge strangely. "Oh. Well, coming right up."

Wedge turned to look at Face. "Freak medical experiment?"

"Hey, I told you I hated improv. It was all I could come up with on short notice." He looked around as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Besides, I didn't want to tell her Iella would kill you if you screwed this up."

"Thanks. I appreciate the concern for my ego." Wedge had to refrain from rolling his eyes.

Face slapped him on the back. "I thought you would."

End chapter ten


	57. Masquerade

Chapter 11  
Masquerade

"This plan relies on a few assumptions," Major Lysa Chanaan said, dimming the lights so the holoprojector could be seen with more ease. "First, we assume that the Imperials think we already know something about their precious Phantoms-"

"Which is why we weren't vaped on the spot last week," Inyri said aloud.

"Precisely," Chanaan continued, "Rather than risk a dogfight, they choose to perform a quick hit and fade. We'll be using this to our advantage. If they continue on this plan of action, they will likely want to avoid direct conflict with Rogue Squadron."

Myn Donos, the longtime Rogue veteran spoke up from the back of the room next, "Because the Imps think we're up to something, and they don't want to accidentally show us their cards yet."

"Once again, correct," The Major turned to look at Wedge, "Are these briefings really necessary? Your men seem to already know what we're up to."

"It's mostly for Wes' benefit," Wedge replied with a shrug, "He's a little slow on the uptake."

"I'm slow on the uptake?" Wes asked, raising a brow. "Care to tell us how dinner with Iella went last night?"

"…Please, Major, carry on," Wedge said, ignoring Janson's verbal jab.

"The next assumption is this," the Major continued. "The loss of outposts and cruisers in the Bilbringi sector suggests that remnants of the Imperial fleet are gathering to stage an assault directly on Coruscant. Preliminary data suggests that currently, a dozen or so Impstar Deuces and several Interdictor cruisers are already there."

The holodisplay switched to a starmap of the sector being discussed, laying out images of the Imperial Capitol ships believed to be in the area.

"It's important to note that there are only two viable hyperspace routes to this area that the Imperials could possibly use. This is will be the platform for phase one of the mission. General Antilles, you have the floor."

Wedge stood up from his seat beside the holoprojector and turned on the lights, "Rogue Squadron has been assigned to Coruscant as a planetary defense task force. This effectively puts the squadron out of commission for the interim."

"…So why are we having this briefing?" Hobbie asked.

"As of today, we are no longer Rogue Squadron," Wedge said. "We have been re-designated as Wraith Squadron."

"Excuse me," Kell Tainer said from his seat, raising his hand like an anxious school boy, "but, sir, if I'm not mistaken, we're Wraith Squadron."

"Correction, you're now unemployed," Wedge said. "After this briefing you will be sent via shuttle to Coruscant's surface to stand in line at the unemployment center for a yet-to-be determined number of hours only to get a job cleaning dishes at a third-rate fast-food restaurant."

"Tell me you're kidding," Shalla said with a groan.

"Of course I am," Wedge said, his face still straight. "About the dishes thing, anyways. Rogue Squadron really is Wraith Squadron now. Another X-Wing unit is being flown in to serve as a pseudo Rogue Squadron to throw off Imperial Intel."

"…So what do we do?" Elassar Targon, the Devaronian Wraith, asked.

"Congratulations," Wedge said, a grin forming on his lips. "You get to be Imperial officers for a while."

"By show of hands," Face Loran said, "Who here is confused beyond all words?"

Just about every hand shot up into the air, Rogues and Wraiths alike.

"I'm just trying to get this organized in my head," Face said. "Rogue Squadron is going to pretend to be Wraith Squadron, while some other unit pretends to be Rogue Squadron. At the same time, the real Wraith Squadron is going to masquerade as a bunch of Imperial pilots?"

"Yes," Wedge said.

Face looked at Wedge expectantly, waiting for some clarification. When it became clear that he wasn't going to get it, Face sighed and asked, "Why are we playing dress-up, General?"

"I'm glad you asked," Wedge said, dimming the lights once more and bringing up the two hyperspace routes that were discussed earlier onto the holoprojector. "NRI has informed us that a Carrack class cruiser, complete with a full squadron of TIEs will be passing through this sector in the next few days. While you and a Republic Interdictor are en route there, the fake Rogue and Wraith squadrons will be drawing the Imperial's attention."

"Forcing them to direct their intelligence divisions on two fronts," Tycho said with a nod. "They'll be so busy keeping tabs on these notoriously difficult fighter and intelligence squadrons that they won't be able to stop us from taking that Imp cruiser."

"Exactly," Wedge said with a nod. "While we're giving Imperial Intel a headache, Face's group will commandeer that cruiser and join the Imp fleet as a TIE regiment. That in essence is phase one. Phase two will be discussed after we have taken the cruiser into our services."

"A few roster changes have been made to pull this off," he continued. "Because of prior experience in TIE class starfighters, Hobbie and Tycho are being assigned to Wraith Squadron."

"Aren't they already assigned to Wraith Squadron?" Kell asked

"Shut up, Tainer," Wedge said, rolling his eyes. "They will be joining the Wraith Squadron that is hijacking an Imperial cruiser. I will be joining the Wraiths in order to personally oversee the deployment of phase two. Wes will be joining us to pilot a TIE as well."

"That," Shalla said, "and he has that irresistible rear."

"Watch it," Inyri said. "That irresistible rear is my property."

Wedge held a hand up before his pilots could get off topic again, "The actual Rogue Squadron has pilots en route to fill in the roster vacancies. In our absence, Colonel Azzameen will be serving as your CO, with Gavin as acting XO. The Infiltration team will depart in forty-eight hours, so rest up. Any questions are to be routed to my desk; I'll answer them on an individual basis. Dismissed."

***

* * *

Darvix Zorvan sighed as he stepped into his quarters. He had just finished up a long, grueling session in the simulation chambers, and was ready to relax for a short while. He knew he had about two days to truly relax before having to throw himself back into the fire again. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he took his jacket off and moved over to his small closet. As his hand reached to the door, he could feel the skin on his neck prickle. Something wasn't right here, he could feel it. Was there something in his closet?

"I'm just being paranoid," he said aloud.

Heaving another sigh, he placed his hand on the keypad and entered in the command to allow the door to slide open. Darvix soon wished that he had payed attention to the feeling of dread he felt just moments earlier. With a loud bang and a flash, something in the closet exploded. He turned away and shielded his eyes, but instead of the pain he thought was coming, he felt something else.

Something sticky, slightly warm. Salty, yet mildly sweet tasting. It couldn't be…

"Ketchup," Darvix grumbled.

He was covered from head to foot in the sticky red substance. Darvix, as well as most of his room, was an absolute mess. He'd heard about Wraith Squadron's antics, and this seemed to fit the bill perfectly. Darvix Zorvan had been pranked by the Wraiths.

"Two can play at this game," Darvix said with a grin as he retreated towards the refresher.

***

* * *

Kell looked up from his datapad as the explosion sounded from the next room.

"Boom," Runt said. "We imagine our XO is quite messy now. Shame we couldn't pull off the stunt while he was sleeping."

"If I didn't know any better," Kell said with a grin, "I'd say that you enjoy this whole prank thing."

"That would be our eternally juvenile mind," Runt replied. "We like to call it Janson's mind."

"You want to go check out the carnage?" Kell asked.

Runt shook his head, "No need. We took the liberty of setting up a few holocameras in there."

"That's my boy," Kell said, looking back to his datapad as if nothing had happened.


	58. Hostile Takeover

Chapter Twelve  
Hostile Takeover

"We'll organize in three flights," Darvix said to the Wraiths gathered in front of him, "One flight will consist of Tainer, Runt, and Tavria. Ru-Murleen, you're wing-leader."

"Excellent," Tavria remarked. "My first order for you boys is to fetch me a case of brandy for the flight."

Ignoring Captain Tavria's outburst, Darvix continued, "Two flight consists of Captain Loran, Targon, and Nelprin. I assume you know who your flight leader is."

The Devaronian, Elassar Targon if Darvix remembered correctly, suddenly stood atop of his briefing room seat, "It is none other than I, Elassar Targon, master of the universe!"

Darvix stared at the Devaronian for a moment, earnestly questioning the other pilot's sanity. Then again, he was in a briefing room filled with rejects, washouts, and sentient beings otherwise lacking any semblance of normalcy. No, Targon was definitely missing his sanity, like every other pilot in the room.

"If I were handing out wing-leader assignments based on who scored the lowest in simulator runs," Darvix replied, "then, yes, you would be wing-leader. Unfortunately, I use this novel idea of rewarding people who score high. Two flight is led by Face."

"Blasphemy!" Targon shouted, pointing a finger at Darvix, "I shall smite you down!"

"Sit down, Elassar," Darvix quipped.

"Yes, sir."

"Three flight will round out the squadron," Darvix said, glancing at his datapad to retrieve the names of the final flight wing, "Piggy, Passik, Sarkin, I'm your wing-leader. Questions, people?"

"What about General Antilles?" Tyria asked.

"General Antilles, Colonel Celchu, and Majors Klivian and Janson will be flying as a different designation," Darvix replied. "Take note that the General's flight will be known as Red Wing until further notice…Any further questions? Dismissed. Report to the hanger at 0900 for departure."

Darvix shut off his datapad and walked off from behind the briefing podium, leaving the conference room to change into his flightsuit.

"Who or what died and made him boss?" Kell asked, turning to the Gammorean pilot beside him.

"I'd guess General Antilles' sanity," Piggy replied.

"Didn't we kill his sanity?" Kell asked. "If so, that makes this our own fault."

"It would seem that way."

***

* * *

"Dap, we need to talk," Corran said, standing behind the younger pilot with his arms folded across his chest.

"Captain Horn," Darvix said with a sigh, "I really don't have time. I've got to check over my snub's repairs before I leave."

"Darvix," Corran replied sternly.

Darvix stared at Corran for a few moments. Whatever the veteran pilot had to say, it could wait. He had other business to take care of. As Darvix moved to step away from Corran, the older Jedi's arm stopped him in his tracks.

"Fine," Darvix said. "I'm listening."

"What has gotten into you?" Corran asked. "Ever since you got back from Nar Shadaa you've been acting strangely. I know you're upset over what has happened to Cheriss, but stay in control of yourself! Being emotional is one thing, but letting your emotions control you is another thing entirely."

"What would you know, Horn!?" Darvix blurted out.

Corran watched Darvix in silence, maintaining an aura of calm, despite the shock that had just hit him hard.

"I know all about you," Darvix sneered. "You thought you lost your wife, left the Academy to fly half-way across the galaxy on some mad vendetta. No, you're just like me. You'd be just as angry, not that you'll ever know. You've still got your wife; you've still got your family. What do I have, Horn? I've got nothing but shattered dreams and a machine of war to remind me what the Empire took away. How dare you lecture me, you self-righteous son of a bitch."

Darvix pushed past Corran, storming down the hall.

"You're going to get yourself killed!" Corran shouted at Darvix, only to see the younger pilot respond with a crude hand-gesture.

"Then I'll see you in hell!" Darvix shouted in turn.

***

* * *

Ten hours later, Darvix found himself at Ground Zero. All was quiet now, but soon the space around him would be engulfed in a massive firefight. Ahead of him was a Republic Interdictor Cruiser, a frightening starship that had fallen into the Republic's hands after the fall of Coruscant. With its massive gravity-well generators, it could haul a ship twice its size out of hyperspace prematurely.

"Attention General Antilles," a new voice said over the communications array, "B-Wing unit Blue Squadron is present and accounted for. Awaiting mission parameters."

Data on this phase of the mission had been kept quiet for the most part. Save for the Rogues and Wraiths, no one but High Command knew what the immediate mission goals were.

"Blue Squadron, this is Red Leader," Wedge replied. "In about ten standard minutes, our Interdictor is going to pull a Carrack class cruiser out of Hyperspace. At that point, our X-Wings will fly cover as you down their shields, and disable the cruiser. Following that, you will join the escort wing and provide cover for Assault Transport unit Storm as they dock with the cruiser. Sounds simple enough, doesn't it?"

"No problem for Blue Squadron, Red Leader."

Darvix gritted his teeth together throughout the entire ten-minute wait. The last time he was behind the flightstick, he had watched helplessly as his lover was obliterated in front of him. Well, this would be the first step in getting his revenge. He cast a glance at his side viewport, frowing slightly.

"Nelprin, we're in Diamond-Vee formation," Darvix chided, "Get into form."

"Acknowledged, Commander Uptight," Nelprin replied, causing snickers of amusement to chime in over the communicator.

"I'll remember that when I assign KP for the next year," Darvix said in turn, shaking his head. Bunch of screwups and rejects, he told himself. No XO commission is worth this torture.

"Don't forget to remind her to stay stocked up on the ketchup," Kell replied.

"Shove it, demo-boy," Darvix groaned. Moments later, his sensor board came to life. "Cut the chatter, Wraiths. We've got work to do. Three flight form up in a horizontal slant-right form."

"They're scrambling starfighters," one of Blue Squadron's pilots noted.

"I see 'em," Darvix replied. "Three flight, we're heading towards the main group. When you're within two klicks, break off in pairs. Nelprin, form up on my wing."

"As ordered, Ten," Shalla replied.

Darvix threw his throttle to full and evened out his shields. It was a pet-peeve of his, but unless he had to, he always made sure his deflector coverage was equal from every angle. Plenty of simulator runs had taught him that TIEs had a lovely tendency to attack from all sorts of unpredictable vectors. Cycling through his targeting computer, he selected the closest enemy target, a Squint that was breaking off formation with its wingmen to engage the B-Wings.

As he approached within firing range, he threw his snubfighter into a corckscrew spin, letting loose with a rapid volley of single-shot fire. As he circled around, he saw that a flight of squints had broken up. Not wanting to pass up a target, an Imperial pilot had latched himself to Darvix's tail.

"Got one on my six," Shalla replied.

"Excellent!" Darvix said aloud.

"What do you mean, excellent?" Shalla asked, exasperated, "this guy's pouring fire into me faster than Wes gets drunk during leave!"

"Trust me on this, come around to point Oh-Seven and fly straight into me. On my mark, break down hard. That understood, Lieutenant?"

"Loud and clear," Shalla replied, "but I think you're crazy!"

"I got that a lot at the Academy."

Darvix held his breath as Shalla's X-Wing raced towards him. Bringing her snub onto his targeting computer, he took notice of the rapidly declining distance separating them. Making a few quick calculations, Darvix looked forward again.

"Break hard!" he shouted into his helmet mounted microphone.

As Shalla threw her flightstick downwards, Darvix pulled back on his. The inertial compensator in his X-Wing wasn't quite enough to prevent him from feeling the maneuver, as he felt his body slam back into his flightseat. Behind him, a bright flash light his cockpit, bringing a grin to his face. The two squints that had been tailing them had smashed into eachother.

"I'll be damned!" Shalla mused, "You've got to be the most brilliant lunatic I've ever met!"

"It's funny how those two descriptions coincide all the time."

As Darvix leveled out his flight, he raced towards the B-Wings again, arriving in time to pour fire into a few pursuing squints. Moments later, the squadron of B-Wings let loose with volley after volley of ion cannon fire, quickly tearing through the shields of the Carrack class snubfighter hauler.

"Target is disabled," Blue leader reported, "repeat, target is disabled."

"Acknowledged," Wedge responded. "Storm Unit, we've got your six. May the Force be with you."

The battle didn't last for another ten minutes. When the smoke and broken durasteel had settled into its eternal drifting through space, the Carrack cruiser was under the command of the feared Wedge Antilles' men. Phase one was complete, and now work could begin on truly thwarting the Phantom project.


	59. Veteran Lessons

Chapter Thirteen  
Veteran Lessons

"Did they get any transmissions out?" Wedge asked, peering over Darvix's shoulder.

"Looks like they tried to," Darvix said. "They didn't get past our communications jamming. The Imps have no idea we've got this cruiser."

Wedge nodded in satisfaction. Communications jamming was a tricky proposition. With so many possible directions a holonet transmission could travel, it was incredibly difficult to keep messages from a military-grade cruiser from being sent. It had been Darvix who plotted where several aging bulk cruisers, filled to the brim with jamming devices specifically tuned to known Imperial frequencies, were to be placed. When Wedge had brought him into the squadron, Wes had proudly said he was one of the finest tactical minds he had trained. If he wasn't careful, Wedge was confident he would loose him to the Starfighter Command tactical division.

"Report coming in from the hanger," Darvix said, interrupting Wedge's reverie. "Pride of Mon Cal has transferred her Squints into our docking bay. We're set for departure."

Most of the starfighters held within the cruiser had been destroyed in the battle to commandeer the vessel. As a result, the Republic had to furnish new Imperial TIE Interceptors that they had captured over the years.

"Ever flown a TIE before?" Wedge asked.

Darvix shook his head, looking away from the terminal in front of him, "Once in a simulation, but I don't think that counts. Those things just fly too fast for me."

Wedge nodded once more, continuing to observe his young pilot. He had potential, that much was clear. Still, Wedge knew that if he couldn't find some way to reign in his emotions and channel them properly, he'd never truly succeed as a snub pilot. When he first became a Rogue, Darvix was headstrong and vocal. He reminded Wedge of Dak Ralter, a pilot that was just as exuberant as Darvix. Dak was convinced he could take on the Empire himself, and several times, that confidence had gotten the pilot into trouble. Early on in Darvix's tenure with the Rogues, Wedge could swear he was looking right into Dak's eyes again.

Ever since Cheriss' death, he had changed. Wedge had a hard time getting the young man to speak outside of a briefing room. The pilot who was once so sure of himself had become as reserved as anyone he had ever seen. It worried Wedge to no end. It was part of the reason he gave Darvix the position as Executive Officer of Wraith Squadron. Perhaps this assignment could light the fire under Darvix once more and allow him to begin his recovery.

"I'm fine," Darvix said, as if reading into Wedge's mind.

"I really don't appreciate you digging into my head with the Force," Wedge chided.

Darvix shook his head, "Didn't need to. You've got that 'concerned parent' look on your face. My mother shot that look at me every other minute while my optic nerves were being eaten away."

Wedge sobered for a moment, looking up at the ceiling of the bridge, "I've seen pilots completely devastated by the kind of loss you went through. I've seen others recover, but they always show some sort of emotion…I haven't seen anything in you since it happened."

"I suppose I haven't had time for emotions to rear its ugly head," Darvix replied with a shrug. "I somewhat hope I'll never find that kind of time, then I won't have to mourn."

"There's nothing wrong with that, Dap," Wedge said.

"Of course not, but with time to mourn also comes time to think," Darvix replied. "I remember lying in a hospital bed shortly after my eyes had been replaced by these implants. I was angry that all I could see now were hazy outlines in a blue hue. As I sat there, I started to think. Before I had gotten sick, I had seen this holodrama set on some desert world. I remember at the end, just before the credits rolled, the hero rode off on a Dewback into the twin sunset… Those pink and orange tones as the suns faded over the horizon were beautiful, and I told myself that I was going to see them myself one day.

"As I was sitting in my bed, I realized that I'd never get to see something that vivid again in my life," Darvix continued with a nostalgic sigh. "It was a pretty sad thought. I should have been grateful to be alive, but I was lamenting that I'd never get to see something as trivial as a sunset again."

Wedge looked at Darvix for a moment, understanding him more than he wished to, "You might start thinking that you could have done something different to save her."

Darvix gave a short nod, glancing down at his terminal again.

"You've been at this for a while, Dap," Wedge said. "Go grab something to eat. Most of the Wraiths are in the mess hall right now."

Darvix wanted more than anything to object, but he knew that request would simply become an order if he refused.

***

* * *

As Darvix stepped into the mess hall, he felt a keen sense of dread creep into his stomach. Quickly, he reached out to his left and picked up a lunch tray, throwing it in front of his face for cover. A split second later, he felt the impact of foodstuffs slam into his tray. As he peeked over the ketchup-blasted tray, he saw Elassar Targon standing atop a table, being stared down by Shalla Nelprin.

"Targon, I swear on Vader's Bones that I will kill you," Nelprin said.

"And just how do you plan to kill Elassar Targon, Ruler of the Universe?" the Devaronian asked in turn.

"First I propose putting you into a headlock," Shalla said, inching closer to Targon. "At that point, I'll bury a vibroblade into your tibia."

"Don't think she wont, either," Kell remarked from one of the nearby tables. "The last person who upset her is still floating in a bacta tank on Agamar. The doctors say he should regain rectal control in about a month."

Darvix moved towards the counter at the far side of the mess hall, setting down his tray and grabbing a plate. As he looked down at the available food, a myth Darvix had clung to for years was immediately dispelled. Imperials didn't eat well. In fact, if this was any indication of Imperial diet, he seriously doubted that Imperials were organic beings. He prodded something that vaguely looked like a meat entrée, noting with a level of disgust that it was about as hard as duracrete.

"If you use your imagination," Face said, stepping up to Darvix, "it tastes sort of like fried gizka."

"That's because fried gizka has no flavor," Darvix replied, continuing to stare blankly at the food in front of him.

Passing on the main course, Darvix grabbed a plate of salad (at least, he hoped it was salad) and made his way towards one of the empty tables. Captain Loran pulled back a chair and sat next to him.

"Wedge kick you out of the bridge?" Face asked.

"Yes," Darvix replied. "Apparently he's under the impression that eating is a good thing."

"Obviously he hasn't made a trip down to the mess hall himself yet."

Darvix glanced around at the other Wraiths in the mess hall. He was amazed that they could carry about with such a relaxed demeanor, considering they were on their way into Imperial space. It couldn't have just been experience that kept these men and women so calm.

"I just don't get them," Darvix said to himself, shaking his head.

"I wouldn't put too much effort into that," Face said, taking a bite out of his sandwich, "You'll just tax your brain cells too much."

Darvix chuckled a bit and prodded the salad in front of him, "How can they be so relaxed? They're not like any fighting unit I've ever seen before."

"Most fighter units don't have as many people who have suffered as much as these boys and girls have," Face said, leaning back into his seat. "Take Dia for example. On a covert op mission, one of her team members was captured. To keep her identity a secret, she was forced to shoot him. Granted, he was already dead, but no one ever wants to take a shot at one of their own.

"Piggy was the result of genetic manipulation tests done by Imperial scientists prior to the fall of Coruscant," Face continued. "Even after escaping, he could never find his place. He kicked around from squadron to squadron until he found his place as a Wraith.

"Demo boy over there," Face said, pointing over to Kell Tainer, "lost his father before the Battle of Yavin. What's worse is the man who shot his father down was Wraith Squadron's first XO, Wes Janson. Kell lived with the idea that he had to redeem his family's image for years."

"I understand that your men and women have seen a lot of suffering," Darvix said, "but what the hell is your point?"

"These pilots know more than anyone else that life isn't easy," Face said. "They learned a long time ago to find diversions in order to keep themselves sane. We don't get many chances to smile, but when we do find them, we make the most of them…But you can bet your life that when it comes down to it, they are the most professional group of soldiers you'll ever meet."

Darvix looked back to Face for a moment, considering what the Captain had said. The Wraiths were the most unorthodox, insubordinate group of men and women he had ever met. Despite that, he had heard nothing but praise concerning the work they had done in the campaign against Warlord Zsinj.

"You could learn something from them," Face said. "You've got potential and something none of us ever had."

"And what might that be?"

"People that believe in your potential."

Darvix smiled faintly as he finally took a bite of his salad. He never really stopped to think about how fortunate he was. Throughout his time at the Academy, he was at the top of his class. At no point was he ever in danger of washing out. He had no doubts that he would become a Republic pilot. Most of the Wraiths never had that kind of luxury, yet they never let it show in their behavior.

"Dap, we've got a game of sabacc goin here," Kell Tainer said from across the room. "You in?"

Face motioned for Darvix to join them, "Socialize, my boy. They were starting to think you were a permanent fixture on the Bridge."

With a grin, Darvix stood and made his way towards the other Wraiths. Face was right, he might as well have some fun. It would make running headfirst into certain death far more amusing.


	60. Battle Plans

Chapter Fourteen  
Battle Plans

"Three weeks ago, captured Seinar Fleet Systems technician Kelin Sokyr spoke to two NRI agents," Wedge Antilles said, casting his gaze about the pilots gathered in the briefing room. "From him, we have discovered a weakness in the Phantom D-34's defense system. Major Chanaan."

Wedge stepped away from the holoprojector, allowing the Rogue Squadron strategist his spot. As she approached the hologrojector, an image of the Phantom TIE appeared.

"We have discovered a weakness that was left in the Phantom during its production phase," The major said. "In the event that an immediate shutdown of the cloaking device was required, technicians linked the communications array directly to the cloaking device's power conduit. When a certain frequency was transmitted, the comm. System would relay a shutoff command. At that point, the cloaking device then must be restarted directly, and not through the pilot's console.

"High Command, along with input from General Antilles and myself, have devised a plan to exploit this weakness."

A new image appeared on the holoprojector, an Imperial Class II Star Destroyer, often referred to by pilots as an ImpStar-Deuce.

"This is the Ender," Major Chanaan continued. "It is under the command of Imperial Captain Reyov Naolin, one of Emperor Palpatine's hand-picked Star Destroyer captains. According to our intelligence reports, and corroborated by Sokyr, we are certain that the Phantom TIEs are stationed on board this Star Destroyer.

"Because we are uncertain what frequency will be required to disable the Phantom cloaking system, we are forced to place an agent on board the Ender in order to ascertain that information. Due to his relatively low profile on Imp networks, and his slicing ability, we are sending Lieutenant Commander Zorvan into the Ender. His goal will be to retrieve that data, and return to this vessel as quickly as possible.

"As for the rest of you," Chanaan said, looking over the pilots. "You should be a little more at home with your assignment. A majority of Wraith Squadron will be acting as Imperial snub pilots, designated Gamma Squadron. A few of you will remain on board this cruiser to keep act as support personnel.

"It is of the utmost priority that we keep attention away from Darvix's mission. Captain Loran will be doing most of the communications with the Imperial fleet. Remember, Gamma Squadron will be under the command of Imperial Fighter Command. Follow their orders, and do not blow your cover.

"Question," Kell Tainer said. "What do we do after we've got the transmission frequency?"

"That will be where the rest of our fleet steps in," Chanaan replied. "Once we have the frequency in our hands, we will send an encrypted signal to a task force waiting in the Dantooine system. If you could direct your attention to the holoprojector…"

A map of the Bilgringi system, where the Imperial fleet lie in wait, appeared. Two new ships, marked in green, appeared on the map.

"Two unmanned Nebulon-B Frigates will drop out of hyperspace. Those ships will lure the Phantom TIEs out of the Ender. Approximately five minutes after the Frigates arrive, the rest of the task force will drop out of hyperspace. Ten Omega Class transports will transmit the acquired frequency while the rest of the fleet deals with the Imperial fleet.

"Y-Wings and B-Wings from Green squadron and Bomber squadron respectively will be charged with eliminating the capitol ships in the area. A-Wings from Blue and Polearm squadrons will escort our bomber class starfighters.

"At this point, Rogue Squadron will have rejoined our taskforce. You will then return to this vessel, and switch out from your TIE Interceptors into your X-Wings. You, along with Rogue Squadron, are tasked with downing every Phantom TIE. General Antilles, any remarks?"

Wedge stood up from his seat, "We've tried a stunt like this once before, but never have we been in the middle of an Imperial fleet this size. We have to take extreme precaution to ensure our covers aren't blown. Face, Passik, and Targon will remain onboard this cruiser to act as support personnel. The rest of you report to the simulation chambers immediately. I want you all familiar with TIE handling. Questions? No? Dismissed."

***

* * *

Darvix sat over a viewing console adjacent to the simulation chamber. Most of the Wraiths had prior experience in a TIE cockpit, but it was important to shake off that rust. Unlike an X-Wing or most other starfighters the Republic used, TIE class snubs were controlled by a flight-yoke. The yoke gave a pilot a much more precise control system, but was very difficult to use. In the early days of the Rebellion, higher-ups in Starfighter Command chose to incorporate an Incom based flightstick system that was very familiar with farmboys who had grown up piloting T-16 skyhoppers and T-47 airspeeders. The flightstick wasn't nearly as precise, but it was an easy system to learn.

"Not in there yourself?" a voice behind him asked.

Darvix turned around to see Tycho Celchu, the long time Rogue Squadron XO.

"No, I have a hard time flying TIEs," Darvix replied.

"I wouldn't expect that out of you," Tycho mused. "Your academy records showed proficiency in just about anything that had a set of repulsorlifts mounted to it."

"Oh, it's not the control system," Darvix said. "It's the cockpit layout. There's so much crammed into such a tiny space. Add to that, with such a small viewport, my eyes can't refresh fast enough. I'd fly into something before I saw it coming."

A problem his cybernetic eyes posed came with a sort of "translation state" images had to go through. They started out as digital snapshots taken in quick succession, but they had to be converted into a signal that his brain's optic center could understand. When too much information needed to be processed, his vision suffered from a sort of lag-time. He would end up seeing things vital split-seconds after they really occurred, and that could spell doom for a pilot.

In his X-Wing, the viewport was large enough he didn't have to worry about the refresh rate problem. He also benefited by having most of the instrumentation below the heads-up-display. In a TIE cockpit, instrumentation was spread all around the forward paneling. With that much visual data right in front of him, there was no way his eyes could keep up.

"You seem to be holding up well, considering you're going to be planted in the middle of an Imperial Star Destroyer."

Darvix shrugged, looking up from the monitors, "I find more ironic than nerve wracking. For years I've done everything I can to be the 'Anti-Imperial,' but here I am, masquerading as one in order to bring them down."

"Just keep your head in the game, Dap," Tycho said, sitting down beside him. "I know I'm not the first person to tell you this, but you've got big potential."

"I really try not to pay too much attention to that sort of thing."

"Don't let it run to your head, but be aware of it," Tycho continued. "A lot of us Rogues aren't going to be around much longer. Wedge, Wes, Hobbie and myself are getting older. We won't be able to pilot forever, but you've got a good twenty years of prime piloting ahead of you. You've got what it takes to last a long while, provided you stay in the right mindset."

"Well," Darvix said, leaning back into his seat, "If I'm going to be around that long, any advice you can give me?"

"One bit of advice I was told a long time ago," Tycho said. "Recognize you're not invincible. Simply telling yourself that is often enough to guide you into making smart decisions. Force or no force, Darvix, pilots rely on more luck than we'd ever want to admit to. Don't test that luck by making foolish decisions behind the flight stick."

The two sat in silence for a long while, simply watching the screens that displayed the actions of the Wraiths in the simulation chamber.

"It's funny," Darvix said, breaking the silence as one of the Wraiths was vaporized. "You'd think some of these Wraiths truly thought they were invincible."

"It might look like that," Tycho said, "but these are some of the smartest men and women you'll ever meet. Every risk they take is calculated. Even they recognize when they're in over their heads."

"I thought I was in way over my head when I got the assignment to Rogue Squadron," Darvix mused. "Tell me, if we had been in a quieter time, would I have made the Rogue roster?"

"Honestly," Tycho replied, "probably not. It's not a discredit to your ability, but General Antilles and I are incredibly weary of putting green pilots onto the active-duty roster. We've seen too many young, hopeful kids die in combat before their ability is fully realized. We would much rather take in a seasoned pilot, albeit with less skill, than a rookie. That way, the rookie would have time to learn the rules of war and develop their ability further…That way they would stand a chance as a Rogue."

Darvix nodded in understanding. He understood he was fortunate to have received such an honorable assignment fresh from the academy, but he never grasped how difficult it was to be a Rogue. Looking at Tycho, he could see the pain of countless friends lost as a result of war. He could understand why he and Wedge were so hesitant to allow him into the squadron.

"What do you say we go grab a bite to eat?" Tycho asked. "I'm starving."

Darvix stood and grinned, "You won't be starving once you see what's on the menu."

With a chuckle, the two left the observation room to enjoy the little downtime they would have for a long while.


	61. Last Minute Preparations

Chapter Fifteen  
Final Preparations

Kell Tainer stepped into the hanger, his tool belt slung over his shoulder. Having grown up in Sluis Van, perhaps the most famous shipyard in all the galaxy, had taught him how to tend to starcraft at a young age. Though he didn't often get the chance anymore, he still loved to work on snubs.

The hanger had been partitioned into two sections. Closest to him, the hanger held the twelve TIE Interceptors that the Wraiths would use in their masquerade. At the far side of the hanger, hidden behind a false wall, their X-Wings were stored. This allowed the Wraiths to lower suspicion concerning the stolen cruiser's true goal.

Kell stepped up towards the false wall, opening a concealed panel and punching in his entry code. A hidden door beside him hissed open, and he stepped through. The X-Wings were arranged in two levels in order to squeeze the fourteen snubs in. Seven rested on the duracrete floor, while the other seven hung suspended from makeshift scaffolding overhead. It was a similar setup the Wraiths had used in a Corellian Corvette, the Nightcrawler, years earlier in the campaign against Warlord Zsinj.

"Tainer, where have you been?" a familiar voice called out from atop one of the Wraith X-Wings.

Cubber Daine had been the mechanic assigned to the original Wraith Squadron. Upon its reformation, General Antilles had insisted that Daine be placed back into the Wraith support staff, a decision Kell agreed with wholeheartedly. Cubber was one of the best snub techs the Republic had to offer, and if anyone could tend to two full starfighter outfights from separate fleets, it was him.

"Sorry, Cub," Kell replied. "Had to grab something to eat. Apparently food is good for you."

"You must not have eaten in the mess hall yet."

"You know, just about everyone is saying that. What can I help you with?"

Daine looked at the ground, gesturing two a green and black R2 unit that was hovering near the X-Wing, "You can start by getting this mechanical hutt-spawn out of my way. Who's droid is that, anyways?"

Kell stepped over to the droid, only to have it fire off a string of angry sounding chirps and warbles, "That would be Lieutenant Commander Zorvan's. I believe Zone is his name…Little bugger swears like a drunken Jawa."

The droid responded with a few more angry chirps.

"It's pretty particular about who works on this X-Wing," Kell said. "Apparently it doesn't like you."

"What's not to like about me?" Cubber asked, picking up his hydrospanner and kneeling down above the hyperdrive housing.

The R2 unit let out a rough approximation of a sarcastic tone, causing Kell to chuckle, "It thinks you've got mechanical ability of a Bantha hopped up on spice."

"Doesn't that thing have a restraining bolt, Tainer?"

"No," said another voice from behind Kell, "and you'd be wise not to put one on Zone."

Darvix stepped in front of Kell and climbed into the cockpit of his snubfighter, "Forgive my droid, he gets fidgety when someone's working on this thing while I'm not around. How's my X-Wing?"

Cubber lookd through the transparisteel canopy at the young pilot, "She's taken a beating in the past. I think I can piece her together enough for this mission, but I seriously doubt she'll stay spaceworthy much longer."

"Not the answer I'm looking for," Darvix snapped. "What can you do to keep here spaceworthy?"

"Other than a complete weapons overhaul, mechanical and electrical replacement, and a complete hull replating, not much," Cubber replied, "The last two skirmishes you've gotten into have really taken a toll on this bird."

Darvix looked at his control panel and shook his head, powering down the cockpit's instrumentation, "If I get you the material, can you make those repairs?"

"Sure, but I don't see why you don't just replace this snub entirely."

"I'll see to it that you get those parts," Darvix said, climbing out of the cockpit and returning to the duracrete floor, "Come on, Zone."

Cubber Daine watched as Darvix walked out of the false hanger, shaking his head, "What's with him? I've seen pilots attached to their ships before, but that's almost obsessive compulsive."

"Nothing about him is normal," Kell replied. "He's got more problems than a one legged Rodian in an ass-kicking contest."

***

* * *

As soon as the Wraiths had dropped out of hyperspace, the communications board indicated that a message was arriving from the Imperial fleet's flagship, the Imperial Class-II Star Destroyer known simply as the Ender. Taking a seat at the command chair belonging to the commanding officer, Major Lysa Chanaan nodded over to Dia Passik to initiate the holonet transmission.

The image of an Imperial Captain in his late forties appeared on screen. Intelligence had informed the Wraiths that he was Captain Reyov Naolin, a handpicked Star Destroyer captain chosen by Emperor Palpatine.

"You're late, Captain," Naolin said, staring at Major Chanaan.

Of course, the holonet transmission showed someone else. Using a trick pioneered by Face Loran years earlier, computers superimposed the image of the cruiser's real captain, a human female named Tia Drapeo.

"You'll have to forgive us," Lysa replied. "we suffered from a hyperdrive problem prior to departure that put us behind schedule."

"At least you're here," Naolin replied gruffly. "I want your TIE unit on patrol by eighteen-hundred hours."

"Yes, Captain," Lysa said. "I'll have my men informed immediately."

"Very good. At your earliest convenience, I would also like to see you and your executive officer on board the Ender for a briefing."

"I apologize, but I won't be able to attend. I need to supervise a set of repairs being made to our weapons systems."

"Then send your executive officer immediately."

With that, the holonet display blacked out. Letting out a sigh, Lysa Chanaan slumped into her chair, "Your turn, Face. Make sure Darvix is ready."

***

* * *

Nearly an hour later, Darvix opened his eyes, staring at the false panel above him. He had been smuggled into a hidden compartment below the floor of an Omega class transport. Face Loran was someone on board this star destroyer, attending a briefing with Captain Naolin. In the meantime, it was Darvix's turn to do his job. Reaching up, he popped open the panel and climbed out of the tight compartment.

He was clad in an Imperial technician uniform, but lacked the proper credentials to access the Ender's computer system. He would have to work his way around that. This would prove to be a fun little task afterall, Darvix mused to himself.

He stepped out of the transport and made his way out of the hanger, glancing at a datapad that had a partial layout of the Ender's floorplans. If NRI was right, there should be a small, underused room with a terminal he could slice into.

***

"Thank you for joining me," Naolin said to Face Loran.

Face, hidden behind a faceful of makeup to mask his true identity, nodded, "It is my pleasure, I assure you."

"Rather than risk this information being transferred over holonet, I'd rather present it to you in person," Naolin continued, gesturing to a holodisplay.

"Intelligence has shown two Republic starfighter units skirting around this staging area," Naolin said. "What is concerning is these are both units belonging to General Wedge Antilles. Communications reports suggest that these are Wraith Squadron and Rogue Squadron respectively."

"I trust you're dispatching units to intercept them," Face said.

Naolin only shook his head, "They're already getting too close to us. We need to strike sooner than later, so they are the least of our worries.

"We're accelerating our plans, then?" Face asked, feeling his heart sink into his stomach.

"Correct, we launch the invasion in seventy-two standard hours."

***

* * *

Darvix glanced around the hallway and stepped towards a sliding door. Taking a breath, he punched in the entrance code. As the door slid shut behind him after stepping in, Darvix froze. He raised his hands as he felt the barrel of a blaster press into his back.

"We can do this one of two ways," a female voice said. "You can promise me that you will leave and won't say a word, or I can shoot you right now."

Darvix looked up, realization hitting him hard. He had heard that voice before.

"Notsil, for the love of the Force don't pull that trigger," Darvix said quietly

He turned around and stared at the woman who had just held him at blasterpoint.

"You…you were with Myn," Lara said. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," Darvix replied.


	62. Complications

Chapter Sixteen  
Complications

"Is Myn with you?" Lara asked, concern evident in her eyes.

"Why in the name of the Force should I divulge something like that?" Darvix retorted. "For all I know you're an Imperial agent!"

"Vader's bones, keep your voice down!" Lara chided. She pushed past Darvix, heading towards the door's control panel, triggering the locking mechanism.

Darvix stared at Lara, trying to assess her intentions by her mannerisms, but couldn't ascertain anything. She was incredibly difficult to read, and he couldn't place a finger on why. Shaking his head, he finally spoke, "Why are you here?"

"The same reason you're here," she replied. "The Imperials have a weapon that they should not have."

"Why the hell is this your battle to fight?" Darvix asked. "You could easily watch from the side without ever being affected."

"My reasons are my own," Lara said in return. "Suffice to say we're on the same side."

"How can I be sure of that?" Darvix said, refusing to hand over his trust so easily.

"Because I've suffered as much as you have at the hands of the Imperials," Lara said, heaving a sigh.

Darvix shot her a cold glare, "Don't assume you've suffered as much as I have. I can assure you that-"

"I can assure you that I don't want to hear your sob story," Lara snapped. "I know you've suffered, I can see it on your face, but you'd best realize you're not the only one to be hurt by the Empire. The Imperials took everything from me, despite the fact that I gave them everything I could. I was once a faithful servant of the Empire, and I loved what I did. I didn't care about those who suffered because of my actions. By the time I realized what I did, it was too late. I lost –everything-, you've still got your life in one piece, so get off your podium, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch."

Normally, those words wouldn't have fazed him, but it felt as if he had the wind knocked out of him. He could feel the suffering deep within her as he reached out with the Force. As her words sank in, the anger within him slowly subsided, only to be replaced by a sense of guilt for focusing on his own problems.

"Lara, I'm-"

"Just tell me…Is Myn with you," she asked quietly.

Darvix shook his head. He could feel she was being honest with him, she had no reason to betray him.

"No," Darvix replied. "He's with the Rogue task force."

Disappointment and relief flooded over her at the same moment. On the one hand, he was temporarily out of danger, but on the other, she knew that deep within her she had hoped to run into Myn. That way she could finally atone for her mistakes of the past. That way, Myn could witness for himself that her loyalty now rested with him.

As she awoke from her reverie, she noticed Darvix sitting infront of the lone terminal in the room, his fingers furiously flying over the controls.

"How did you get here?"

"Ironically, the same way I escaped the Empire when I was younger," he replied, "smuggled away in a transport's underbelly."

"Who else is with you?"

He considered the ramifications of divulging that information. Darvix knew enough about Wraith Squadron's history to know that he was staring at a traitor to the New Republic. Lara Notsil, who had been born Gara Petothel, was at one point an Imperial agent who had infiltrated the Republic as a pilot.

Her secret was exposed during her service as a Wraith. Though she had escaped, she had been spotted in the firefight that had ensued when the Republic ambushed Warlord Zsinj's fleet. He had seen the official documentation on the incident, filed by then Commander Wedge Antilles. He had reported her killed in action, but here she was, standing right in front of him. He had more than enough reason to doubt Notsil's sincerity. Still, as he reached out with the Force once more, he could not sense even a shred of malice within her. Lara Notsil's enemy was the Empire as well.

At that moment, Darvix could use every ally he could find. There was no harm in accepting Notsil's help, he could feel it.

"Face Loran's talking with Naolin as we speak," Darvix finally admitted, turning his attention back to the console. "The rest of the Wraiths are on board one of the patrol cruisers."

"I heard they had been re-commissioned."

"Your ability to stay on top of classified information is a marvel," Darvix replied, his eyes still focused on the screen.

"It's an old habit," she said with a shrug. "Here's the million credit question: what are you looking for?"

"Transmission codes," he said. "I don't even have to ask if you know about the Phantom project, do I?"

"Force, no. Why do you think I'm here?"

"Well I always thought an ImpStar Deuce was a nice place to take a leisurely vacation," Darvix said slice deeper into the system's security measures. "The design team left a small loophole in the cloaking device's power regulator. There's a small circuit connected to the communications array, and when a certain frequency is transmitted, the device powers down and must be restarted by hand."

"Convenient," she mused.

"Incompetent," he replied. "Bringing up the development logs…"

He held his breath as he waited to see if his backdoor program could slice into the old log files. With a rather anticlimactic chirp from the terminal, the log files appeared on his screen. A smile began to creep onto his lips as he began to enter in the search query to find the data he was searching for. With any luck, he could be back in the shuttle's compartment bay in mere minutes.

The moment the transmission code appeared on the screen, he pulled his uniform coat open, drawing his datapad and connecting it to the terminal.

"You'd better get this down as well," Darvix said, gesturing for her own datapad.

"You've already got them."

"If something happens to me, these codes have to get to General Antilles."

Lara knew that if she did that, she might as well kiss her life goodbye. Antilles would have her thrown into the brig the moment he saw her, and at that point, it would only be a quick trial to determine she had committed war crimes against the Republic. From there, it would by the firing range.

Despite that knowledge, she had no qualms with handing the young Wraith her datapad. It was the right thing to do. The Empire could not continue to exist with these weapons of war. If all it would cost to end this threat was her life, than so be it.

"My transport is standing by," Darvix said. "I want you to wait in the smuggling compartment…I promise that you're identity and location will remain hidden from General Antilles, but you need to get off this vessel."

She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. This young pilot, who no doubt had many good years still ahead of him, was willing to aid a traitor. At the least, if he was discovered, he would be sentenced to life in a prison cell, but he could easily be standing next to her on death row.

"I can't-" she began, only to have Darvix cut her off.

"You're not a traitor," Darvix said flatly, standing and powering down the terminal. "You know in your heart that you've done everything you can to repent of your mistakes."

"How do you-"

"Lara," Darvix said quietly, "I believed your story when you told it to me on Corellia, and I still believe you now. I see it in you, you want to help the Republic, your allegiance has changed. Let justice determine you're not a traitor, but a hero…Please, come back with me.

She could only nod in silence. It was going to be a difficult road to take, and chances were she would fail, but if she was going to fail, she might as well do it in a blaze of glory.

"Go," Darvix said. "I'll be there shortly."

***

* * *

Ten minutes after Lara had left; Darvix finally exited the small room and made his way towards the transport bay. He was so close to pulling this insane stunt off. Just a few more corridors and he would be on his way back to the relative safety of the commandeered battle cruiser.

Looking back at those few ill-fated moments, Darvix would find it to be slightly amusing. The odds of running into a particular person in the galaxy on random were minuscule at best, but of course, there was always that one instance in which it happened. As he rounded the corner, he bumped into two officers, one he recognized as being the disguised Face Loran, the other being a man he prayed he would never have to meet again.

Darvix stared at Captain Reyov Naolin with a look of horror. Suddenly, the repressed memory sprung forth from the depths of his mind…

***

* * *

Darvix looked up at the tall Imperial officer standing next to him. It was like all the holovids he had been shown in school, a man with chiseled features and an aura of power and authority. For a boy such as himself, just fourteen standard years of age, it was like looking up at a man of heroic proportions.

The officer had identified himself as Lieutenant Naolin from the Imperial Fleet, the Emperor's very own fleet. He had spotted Darvix waiting by a speeder stop, waiting for a ride to his home. The officer seemed very friendly, offering Darvix an adhesive sticker that read "Future Soldier of the Emperor." To be in such a man's presence was simply intoxicating.

The Lieutenant had acted friendly towards Darvix. A powerful man that was so kind! Darvix knew that he wanted to become just like that man, but he knew that his cybernetic eyes wouldn't let him join the Navy.

"I wish I could become a soldier like you," he remembered saying.

"And why do you think you can't?" Naolin asked in turn, offering that warm and inviting smile.

"My eyes, I can't see well enough," Darvix said, sadness tainting the edges of his voice.

"Nonsense," Naolin told him. "If you have a sound mind, the Emperor will welcome you into his service with open arms."

It wasn't until years later that Darvix learned the Emperor was already dead, that the Galactic Empire was in shambles, but it didn't matter to Darvix at that moment. He could still become an officer like Lieutenant Naolin. As the officer was about to offer a goodbye and go on his way, there was a shout from a nearby alley. Naolin jumped to his feet and headed into the direction the sound came from.

As any other boy would have, Darvix followed behind Naolin. By the time he had arrived, two blaster shots had already been fired. Naolin was holding a standard issue hand blaster, still hot from the two discharged shots. The wall in front of him was covered in blood, and lying on the ground were two Twi'leks. Next to the two corpses was a young Twi'lek girl, sobbing hysterically as she backed up against the wall.

Naolin finally caught sight of Darvix, beckoning him to come closer.

"These three aliens stole from a nearby shop," Naolin said. "This is why the Emperor places men like us in charge, my boy. We keep these vermin in line, and when necessary, we teach them to obey the laws."

"I beg of you," the girl said in broken Basic, "we did not do anything, please don't hurt me!"

"The Emperor is a merciful man," Naolin mused, "but sometimes he can not forgive. Sometimes he must have his servants act to preserve the glory of the Empire."

Naolin handed Darvix the blaster he had used to shoot the two Twi'leks. Without hesitation, he took it and looked back at the young alien before him. He could see the pleading in her eyes, but she was too frightened to say anything to him. The tears were streaming down her face. She shook her head, silently begging Darvix to spare her.

Yes, the Emperor was a merciful man, Darvix thought to himself, but sometimes there is no room for mercy. He pulled the trigger twice, and a third body lay upon the blood-stained ground.

"The Emperor would be proud of you, my boy."

***

* * *

Darvix could feel the rage building within him. The man was standing in front of him again. No, this time Darvix would do the right thing. He would spill that man's blood to avenge the soul he had taken. Reaching into his uniform jacket, he withdrew the lightsaber he had concealed, charging after Naolin.

In the heat and confusion, Darvix had failed to notice the Stormtroopers that had been escorting the officer. Before he could ignite his blade, he felt a jolt of seering pain as a stun-bolt from one of the Stormtrooper's rifle hit him. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before his vision blacked out, silently cursing to himself for not being quicker with his actions.

***

* * *

"He did what!?" Wedge demanded.

"I'm telling you," Face said with a sigh, "he went ballistic. He stared at Naolin for about a minute before lunging after him. I've never seen someone so intent on killing another man before. They've probably got him in a holding cell for questioning right now."

"Vader's bones," Wedge cursed, stepping back into the hanger, "Go through the transport and see if he left a datapad with the codes in there before he decided to conveniently jeopardize this entire operation."

Wedge stepped onto the transport with Face, kneeling down to unlatch the hidden smuggling compartment. Darvix had really done it this time. Wedge had put up with his erratic behavior before, but this was beyond insane. Chances were the entire operation had just gone up in flames.

As Wedge pulled up the hatch and glanced inside, a feeling of utter shock slammed into him, "Face, come over here…"

Face Loran walked over to Wedge and glanced into the hold. He couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Yes, she had changed her appearance, but there was no mistaking who this woman smuggled into the hold was.

"Notsil," Wedge said quietly, continuing to stare into the hold.


	63. Acceleration

Chapter Seventeen  
Acceleration

Face Loran could only stare at Lara. Long ago he had accepted the fact that she was dead, and probably for the best. Still, somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized that she was an escape artist. That was why she was such a valuable asset to the Empire. She should have been tossed into the cruiser's brig to await trial, but Wedge had insisted she be brought into the debriefing room

"You're wasting your time, General," Face said quietly, glancing at the table where Lara sat.

Wedge ignored Face and sat down at the table, across from Lara, "You've put yourself in a very precarious spot, Miss Notsil."

"Says the man who's masquerading as an Imperial," Lara replied with a grim smile.

"Posing as an Imperial isn't going to help your cause any," Wedge said, frowning. "This isn't your battle to fight."

Face could only stare at Wedge. The man was a terrible liar, but this time he wasn't even trying to cover up the fact that he knew something about Lara.

"General, if you don't mind me asking," Face said, "but why the hell are you being so lenient with a traitor!?"

"She's not a traitor," Wedge said calmly, not even turning to glance at Face.

"She's not?" Face asked

"I'm not?" Lara asked in turn.

Even at that moment, Wedge couldn't suppress a small chuckle, "If I thought you were a traitor, I would have landed and detained you after you had crashed

Towards the end of Wraith Squadron's tenure in the fleet, Lara had supposedly defected back to the Empire. Unbeknownst to the Republic, she had been feeding the Republic cruiser Mon Remonda coordinates of the Iron Fist, Warlord Zsinj's prized Super Star Destroyer. She had been spotted in the firefight in an X-Wing she had "stolen" from the fleet, but was shot down towards the end of combat. As Wedge flew overhead to assess the damage, he saw that the flightseat of the snub, still nestled into the cockpit, was empty. He knew Lara had escaped.

Though it was never confirmed that Lara was behind the sabotage that allowed the Republic to ambush Zsinj's fleet, Wedge had long since suspected it was her. After the battle, Wedge ran across a message Lara had recorded, intended for former Wraith Myn Donos. He had ordered the message be deleted from the Mon Remonda's computers, and forwarded a lone copy to Myn. The law wasn't on her side, not yet anyways. The only way justice could have been served then was for Wedge to not act.

"Wedge, if word gets out you're conspiring with her," Face said quietly, "you'll be accused of treason as well. You can kiss your career goodbye, not to mention any semblance of freedom you might enjoy."

"Captain, kindly shut up," Wedge retorted, turning his attention back to Lara, "Let's get to the point, shall we?"

"Of course, sooner we're done here, the sooner I can enjoy a lovely brig cell."

"If you can help us, we might be able to work out better arrangements," Wedge replied. "Why are you here?"

Lara looked at the table top for a moment, trying to get her thoughts in order. Habit told her to come up with a lie to get her out of this mess, but she had to refrain. The truth was what was needed at that moment. It may cost her everything, but it might put an end to this nightmare.

"I ran into one of your men on board the Ender," Lara said. "Little shorter than average, young, cybernetic eye implants…"

"Lieutenant Commander Zorvan," Face said with a small groan.

"Yes, that's his name," Lara said. "Is he nearby?"

"I'm afraid not," Wedge replied. "He's currently in a four by eight on board the Ender rooming with some guy named Bubba."

Lara stared at Wedge blankly for a moment, feeling her heart sink as realization hit her. The young pilot who had gone out on a limb to help her was in Imperial custody now.

"You ran into Darvix," Wedge said, "Did he give you anything to hand over to me?"

Carefully, Lara reached into her jacket, withdrawing a datapad and setting it on the table, "These are the transmission codes you're looking for. Darvix sliced them himself, so you can trust them. I was only meant to come here is a failsafe."

"What do you mean by 'failsafe?'" Face asked

"Darvix said that if something were to happen to him, I needed to get this information to the General," Lara replied.

"Dap wouldn't hand out his trust so easily," Wedge mused. "Especially in light of recent…events…that he has gone through. How can you possibly explain this?"

Lara let out a soft sigh, "I ran into Darvix on Corellia, when he and Myn limped in after what they claimed to be a nasty skirmish. I suppose I gained his trust there."

"How'd you accomplish that?" Face asked, scoffing at her. "Same way you got Myn to trust you? Lie, cheat, deceive?"

Lara wanted to reach out and slap Face. If there was one constant in her life, it was her devotion to Myn. Even after all these years, she was still determined to set things right with him. She had made a mistake by deceiving Myn and the rest of Wraith Squadron, but she didn't know what she was doing, she had yet to discover the truth of the Empire.

"I told him the truth," Lara replied quietly, "and he believed me. That's why I'm here now, because someone still had faith in me. I'm not about to hurt another friend, so I beg you, please believe me. These are the codes you need."

Wedge looked at Lara for a moment, trying to gauge her emotions. He may not possess the Force like Skywalker, but he was damn good at reading someone's thoughts. Lara had changed from when he first met her. She wasn't so difficult to read anymore. Lara was telling the truth this time, he was sure of it. She had brought the codes that could bring an end to this crisis.

He knew that if he went forward with this, he would likely be tossing his career down the drain. Still, what did his simple career mean when compared to the welfare of the Galaxy. It was a risk, but a risk that had to be taken.

"Captain, send the message to the fleet to commence the attack," Wedge said. "With the Imperial's accelerated timetable, we don't have a moment to loose."

***

* * *

In a system just out of reach of the Imperial sensor net, the Republic fleet had assembled; awaiting the order to begin their assault of the Empire's opposing fleet in the Bilbringi system. At the front of the task force was the Calamari Cruiser known as the Mon Remonda, the current home of Rogue Squadron. The ship had once been Han Solo's flagship during the Warlord Zsinj crisis, and once again, she was thrust into the center of another conflict.

The Rogues had gathered in one of the pilot's lounged, aptly named Downtime. Each pilot knew that at any moment, the call would come for them to suit up and throw themselves headfirst into what was most likely a suicide mission. Normally during moments of quiet, the pilots would enjoy a drink or two, but no one dared to touch the synthehol that day. It was hard enough to keep focused in time of crisis and danger. At one table, several of the higher ranking Rogues had gathered, reading over a datapad.

"They promised us another pilot," Inyri Forge said with a groan. "We're running out of time to round out the roster."

"Command says that someone is on his way," Colonel Ace Azzameen, the temporary commanding officer of Rogue Squadron, said. "Just wait, I'm sure he'll be here soon enough."

"We don't have a whole lot of time left," Corran Horn mused. "If this pilot doesn't show up soon, we're going to have to rework the flight wings… Do you even know who we're getting?"

"I have an idea," Ace replied, "but we'll have to wait and see."

As if on cue, the door to the lounge slid open, and Pash Cracken stepped in, "An X-Wing just landed in our hanger, I think our replacement pilot's here. You're not going to believe who command sent us…"

Corran Horn looked up from his fruit fizz to watch a new pilot step into the lounge, still clad in the traditional orange flightsuit that was popular during the days of the Rebel Alliance. He felt his jaw drop as he realized just who was going to be flying alongside them.

"Colonel Azzameen?" the pilot said.

Ace raised his hand, beckoning the pilot over with a grin, "Over here."

The pilot strode over to the table where Ace, Inyri, and Corran sat, setting a battered flight helmet, complete with two red Rebel Alliance insignias, on the table.

"Sorry I'm late," the pilot said with a lopsided grin.

With that, Ace stood up and addressed the pilots in the room, "Rogues, I imagine you're already quite familiar with who this is, but in case you've been hiding under a rock for the last fifteen years, I'd like to introduce you to Commander Luke Skywalker, our temporary replacement pilot."

***

* * *

A few hours later, the Rogues had cleared out of the lounge, save Luke Skywalker and Corran Horn. Corran knew that this wasn't the best time to bring up the subject, but it had to be discussed. He had been trying to get in contact with Skywalker for weeks, and he knew this couldn't wait any longer.

"How is Darvix doing?" Luke asked.

Corran shook his head, "I don't know, Luke. I'm worried about him."

"A normal feeling for any teacher," Luke said, sipping at the mug of hot chocolate in his hands.

"He's slipping, Luke, I can feel it," Corran replied. "He's been acting differently since he returned from his homeworld. Something isn't right with him."

Luke nodded, "What specifically is troubling you?"

"Other than the fact he's seething so much anger you could feel it from a kilometer away?" Corran scoffed. "He's not himself anymore. Darvix was always a person who could use his head, but he hasn't been thinking clearly…not that I can blame him."

"I'm reluctant to ask what you mean by that, but carry on."

"He proposed to another Rogue a few weeks ago," Corran continued, "only to have her killed in action just hours later."

"I see," Luke said, frowning slightly, "I assume that's what's causing the anger?"

"Part of it, at least," Corran said with a shrug. "He's hard to read, Luke. I don't know what's going through his mind, but I can feel him falling into the Dark Side."

Luke set down his mug, setting his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands, thinking for a moment. He had seen himself many young, promising students lured by the Dark Side. Most often they fell because of uncontrolled anger within them. If not handled properly, Darvix could easily become another one of those tragic cases.

"Unfortunately, there is not much we can do now," Luke said, "I'm here because you're short-staffed right now, and taking him out of the mix isn't going to help…So long as you keep a careful eye on him, we can control the situation. That will have to suffice until we have more time to work with him."

"Therein lies the problem, Luke," Corran said. "Darvix isn't here."

"…what do you mean, he isn't here?"

"He's with Wedge's group in Bilbringi."

Corran wasn't sure if he had ever seen Luke look so disappointed before… or perhaps angry. Skywalker looked up at the ceiling for a moment before boring his gaze into Corran.

"How can you expect to keep a watchful eye on your apprentice if he's half-way across the galaxy?" Luke demanded. "You can't be passive about this! You know as well as I do how enticing the Dark Side is! Why didn't you say something to Wedge?"

"He wouldn't understand," Corran replied.

"Just because you're a Force user doesn't mean you can sell people short for not being Force Sensitives," Luke snapped. "If anyone understands the importance of the problem we're looking at, it's Wedge."

"His hands were tied!" Corran retorted. "This was the easiest course of action for him!"

"The easiest course of action might lead us to failure this time, Corran," Luke chided. "If you had at least said something, Wedge could have had time to work something out…Corran, sometimes inaction is just as dangerous as performing the wrong action. Let's just hope Darvix hasn't done anything he'll regret yet."

The moment Luke had finished speaking, the klaxon alarms sounded. The red flood lights alerting the crews of impending action kicked in, followed by the intercom, "All pilots, to your stations. Repeat, all pilots, to your stations."

Luke looked back at Corran for a moment before standing, "Come on, we can't worry about him right now."

Shaking his head, Corran stood and followed Luke out of the lounge. This had the makings of a disaster written all over it.


	64. No Turning Back

Chapter Eighteen  
No Turning Back

The moment Darvix's eyes opened, he wished that he was still unconscious. Immediately, his body was racked of pain inflicted by his captors. He lay staring straight up at the ceiling, trying not to move and trigger another wave of pain in his battered body. For what seemed like an eternity to Darvix, he had been "questioned" concerning his presence on board the Ender. He hadn't spoken yet, concerning the Wraiths hidden within the Imperial Fleet.

At least, he believed he hadn't spoken. His mind was a haze, unable to clearly recall what had happened to him over the last several hours. All that existed to him was pain, and that was something he could live without. Through the fog within his brain, he recognized a feeling of both panic and urgency. Wherever he was, he had to get out in a hurry.

_Alright, Darvix,_ he said to himself, _you've still got that head on your shoulders. Time to think._

Gingerly shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, he managed to sit up and glance around his location. It was a small room, no larger than a typical storage closet. Across from the bed he was sitting on was a bluish force-field. As tempted as he was to charge into it, he didn't believe that much energy surging into him would help his pain much. As the fog began to lift, he realized with horror he was locked within a prison cell.

_Ah…yes, I tried to kill an Imperial Officer,_ Darvix told himself. _Not one of the brighter things I've done in recent memory._

Standing, Darvix tried to stretch out his sore muscles, wincing slightly as jabs of pain shot through him once more. Leaning against a wall, he closed his eyes and tried to summon the Force. Corran had taught him how to lessen pain via the Force, but Darvix couldn't find the focus he needed.

A rap of knuckles against steel caused Darvix to spin towards the force field wall. Before him stood a man clad in an Imperial pilot uniform. He was strongly built and chiseled, a typical poster boy for the Empire, but not a typical pilot. Darvix would be surprised if this man could fit into a TIE cockpit.

"If you still want me to talk," Darvix said, his voice shaky, "you're wasting your time. I've got nothing to say to you."

The stranger reached for the console next to Darvix's cell, deactivating the force field and stepping in.

"Lara has already contacted me to get you out of here," the stranger said. "The codes are with your commanding officer, and the Fleet is on its way."

Darvix could only stare at the stranger. This pilot claimed to be on his side, but Darvix had no idea who this person was. How could he hand over his trust so easily, trapped in the middle of an Imperial Star Destroyer?

"Who are you?" Darvix asked, pressing his back against the cool metal wall.

"Inconsequential," the pilot said.

"Don't give me that enigmatic garbage," Darvix snapped. "If you can't even tell me your name, why the hell should I trust you?"

"Because if you don't trust me, you're as good as dead here," the pilot said. "If you must know, my name is Fel."

Something in the back of Darvix's mind registered that name, but he was still too groggy to recall details correctly. As he tried to reach out to the Force, trying to harness its powers to numb his pain, he was met with futility. He simply could not focus enough to call upon it.

Heaving a sigh, Darvix looked up at Fel, "I'm listening."

"I've reprogrammed the power conduits here to shut down your forcefield once a battle alert is given," the man said. "As soon as the fleet gets here, you can escape."

"Wonderful," Darvix said. "Getting out with my bare hands should be a breeze."

"Prisoner item lockup is down the hall," Fel replied. "Your weapon should be in there."

Darvix shook his head, "I won't be able to do much…I can barely move right now."

Without saying a word, Fel set down a small case by Darvix's side. He picked it up and opened it, staring at its contents. He couldn't use this, he couldn't even justify using this.

"Spice," Fel said. "Illegal, yes, but it'll pick you up enough to get out of here. One injection should keep your body running for about an hour. Obviously, I don't have to tell you to not overdose on this."

"I can't use this," Darvix said, closing the case.

Spice was a drug favored by sentient beings all over the galaxy. Many forms, such as this one, were cheap and easy to come by. If dosed too highly, it became a powerful hallucinogen, but at the right level, it could be an extremely effective way to numb the body to pain.

"If you want to try getting out of here in your condition, be my guest. Otherwise, use the spice."

With that, Fel turned and walked out of the cell, reactivating the force field behind him. Darvix clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as he tried to assess his options. He had to get out of here, because if Fel was telling the truth, the Ender was going to be space debris in a short amount of time. Still, he couldn't use the spice. It was wrong, it was immoral.

He looked away from the case for a moment, only to feel the pain return to his body.

"Morals be damned," Darvix said to himself.

His hand picked up the case, hastily throwing it open. With shaky hands, he removed an administration syringe, filling it with the liquid spice held in a small vial. Taking a breath, he closed his eyes and jammed the needle into his arm, pressing down on the plunger and injecting the drug into his system.

***

* * *

Wedge Antilles stepped into the hanger, clad in the traditional orange flightsuits of the New Republic. All around him were deckhands frantically moving about, tending to the Wraith pilots who had just returned from patrol. At the far side, a crew was tearing down the false wall that hid their X-Wings from view. As soon as the fleet arrived, they would have to jettison their TIEs to clear room for the departure of their X-Wings. Hopefully, the confusion of dumping unmanned TIEs into space would give them enough of a screen to join the combat unnoticed.

The Wraiths had assembled in the center of the hanger awaiting the orders of their superior officer. Wedge walked into the center of the group, raising his hand to command their attention.

"I'm afraid I've got bad news," Wedge said. "As of now, we're a man down."

"Oh Kriff," Tycho groaned, immediately knowing who he was referring to. "What did he do?"

"We'll discuss that later," Wedge continued, "but for the sake of this mission, Lieutenant Commander Zorvan is to be presumed killed in action."

"We don't even know if he's dead!" Shala Nelprin retorted.

"He's as good as dead even if he isn't yet!" Wedge snapped. "If he's alive, he's trapped on the Ender…and that's the fleet's first target."

"Shouldn't we at least try to find him?" Tyria asked.

"He's already compromised mission security. If we're not already doomed, running after him will all but ensure our deaths."

"Lovely," Wes mused. "Wedge is beginning to sound like Hobbie again."

***

* * *

Captain Reyov Naolin watched as the ramp to the Lambda Class Shuttle that had just arrived lowered. Why he was here was a mystery to him. This man had no combat experience whatsoever. He could not appreciate what was about to happen here. Unfortunately, Naolin was obliged to indulge the man, seeing how it was his funds that allowed this project to go forth.

Moff Jeris Celia stepped off the ramp. He had been hand picked by Emperor Palpatine in the Empire's early days to command a backwater section of the galaxy. Celia was not a man to be easily satisfied, however. He longed to control more worlds, more sectors. Many had described him as being as ambitious as the great Grand Moff Tarkin, but with half the intellect. That was the only reason Naolin put up with him. It took a true being of idiocy to invest in a project as utterly expensive and dangerous as the Phantom D-34.

"Moff Celia, your presence here is always a welcome sight," Naolin said, lying through his teeth.

"I'm well aware," the aging Moff said in turn, "so do dispense with the pleasantries."

"Yes, sir," Naolin replied, walking alongside Celia out of the hanger.

"I trust our timetable is on schedule?" Celia asked.

"We have been forced to accelerate our timetable," Naolin replied. "but it is of little concern, we've been prepared for some time to begin the assault on Coruscant."

"Good. This should prove that my funds have been well spent."

_As soon as this is over,_ Naolin said to himself, _you won't have to worry about funds any longer. We'll see who's the puppet then, won't we?_

Mere minutes later, the two men had stepped onto the bridge of the Ender. Naolin glanced around at the crew, still diligently working like the mindless slaves they were. These Imperial crewmen were hard working soldiers, but their lack of personality was enough to drive even Naolin up the wall.

"Captain, incoming message from Delta Contact," the crewman at the communication board said.

"Let's hear it, then," Naolin replied.

Delta Contact. Several years prior, Naolin had placed a double agent within the ranks of the New Republic. Really, Delta was just a skifter up his sleeve to use if the situation was right. Within the last few months, however, Delta had proven her worth, providing the information leading to two ambushes on Rogue Squadron. They had escaped both times, but one day their luck would run out, and Naolin couldn't wait to see it.

An audio feed came to life on the bridge, "Captain this is Delta Contact," a female voice said. "You're in trouble."

"Care to explain that a little further?" Naolin asked.

"The Rebels are on their way," the voice continued. "They know where you are and are probably thirty minutes away from your location as we speak."

"How in the world do they know where we are?" Naolin demanded. "The sensor nets have been blind to our presence for a month now!"

"A group hijacked one of your fleet's vessels…You're not going to like this, sir."

"I'm going to be even more displeased if you don't tell me what is going on."

"It's Antilles. He's somewhere near you."

"Impossible," Naolin scoffed, "Our intelligence shows Rogue and Wraith squadron patrolling well outside of this area. Antilles must be with one of them…unless."

"Yes, sir, a decoy. The Rogue Squadron we're following isn't the real Rogue Squadron."

"Sithspit," Naolin cursed. "Where's the real Rogue Squadron then?"

"Patrolling outside of your sensor nets."

"But you just said they weren't the real Rogue Squadron!" Naolin said, exasperated.

"They're not."

"Then who the hell are they!?"

"A decoy, sir."

Naolin brought his hands up to his temples, trying to rub away the headache quickly forming, "Delta, I swear, if you don't start making more sense very, very soon, you will find yourself mining spice out of Kessel until Tatooine freezes over, Mon Calamari turns into a desert world, and Hoth becomes a tropical paradise."

"I apologize, sir," the voice continued, "I'll try to be clearer. The Rogue Squadron we're following is a decoy squadron. The real Rogue Squadron is masquerading as the Wraith Squadron we've tracked. I assume that the real Wraith Squadron is somewhere in your fleet, commanded by General Antilles. A rather convoluted plan, if I do say so myself."

"I wholeheartedly agree. Thank you Delta."

Naolin signaled for the audio feed to be cut. Leave it to Antilles to give him a headache the size of Corellia. All this time, they had been focusing on both of Antilles squadrons, trying to gauge whether or not they were close to discovering their location, but as it turned out, keeping tabs on the snub squadrons was a complete waste of time. One was a decoy, and the other was simply masquerading as an intelligence unit. He could have launched the invasion weeks ago, had it not been for the paranoia Antilles had distilled within them.

Antilles wanted him to think that they didn't know where he was hiding, but were close to finding them. In reality, Antilles knew all along. This plan had thrown Naolin's intelligence division for a loop. Instead of noticing the Rebel ambush that was speeding towards them, they had focued all their attention on two insignificant snubfighter squadrons. He could feel the anger and frustration building up within him.

"Signal battle alert status," Naolin barked to his crewmen. "Notify the fleet and let them know we have company."

Ambush or not, the Rebels wouldn't be able to stop his Phantoms. In the end, this would just make his job easier.


	65. Diversions

Chapter Nineteen  
Diversions

"Oh Sithspit!" Dia Passik, the Twilek Wraith at the communications board, cursed. "Incoming orders from the Ender, we are to proceed to battle alert immediately."

"They're not ready to launch yet, are they?" Wedge asked, looking towards Face.

Face shook his head, "This is too fast for Naolin's timetable. Something else is going on."

"General, we've got a problem!" Major Lysa Chanaan, Rogue Squadron strategist shouted.

"Well aware, Major," Wedge replied.

"General, Naolin's ordered all fleet vessels to prepare for an emergency personnel inspection."

"Vader's bones!" Wedge cursed, rushing over to the communications terminal.

Sure enough, the orders had been issued. Five Lambda class shuttles filled with a detachment of Stormtroopers and a high ranking officer were departing from the Ender as they spoke. Someone had tipped the Imperials off to their presence, and now the faced the possibility of having their cover blown wide open.

"Damn it!" Face yelled. "She must have turned us in!"

"Now is not the time to be jumping to conclusions, Captain," Wedge chided as he watched the sensor readouts of the shuttles' location.

"Who else could have tipped them off?" he demanded.

"Hold on," Tyria Sarkin interrupted, "Who the hell are we talking about?"

"Not another word!" Wedge bellowed. "We've got a major problem here, everyone suit up. I want you behind the flightstick in ten minutes!"

As the pilots quickly filed out of the bridge, Wedge grabbed Face Loran's arm.

"Not a word about Notsil, do you understand me, Captain?" Wedge asked.

"Wedge, who else could have blown our cover?" Face replied.

"The one person we can't keep tabs on right now," Wedge said in turn. "Chances are they've already broken Darvix… You and I both knew it was only a matter of time before they got him to talk."

Reluctantly, Face conceded defeat. What did Wedge know that kept him from blaming Lara? She had committed acts of espionage against the Republic, committed treason, and had nearly brought Wraith Squadron to destruction years ago. Why could Wedge trust her? Without another word, Face walked off the bridge to change into his flightsuit.

***

* * *

Darvix awoke to the sound of blaring klaxon alarms. He knew almost immediately that a battle status had been issued, now was his chance to escape. Just as the stranger pilot promised, the force field wall had been deactivated. Escaping from the prison bay alone was going to be difficult, but escaping from the Ender itself was the true challenge. He knew he had one of two options, hotwire an escape pod and pray he wasn't shot out of space in the process, or try a riskier approach: commandeer an Imperial snub. Darvix didn't waste any time in selecting his choice. He hated to feel helpless. If he was behind the controls of a snub, he could at least control his destiny.

As he stood up, he realized that the pain had returned to his body, Wincing and letting out a hiss of displeasure, he looked back to the bed and the black case that lay upon it. Without hesitating, he opened the case and removed another syringe and vial of spice. In the back of his mind, Darvix recognized that it might only be a placebo effect, but he didn't care. Moments after the drug entered his system, he could feel the pain fading away.

Slowly, he stepped towards the cell's opening, glancing around the corner and down the hallway. He cursed silently, wishing he wasn't the unluckiest man on the face of the universe. At the end of the hall, in front of the lockers that held various items the prisoners had brought with them, stood two Imperial Stormtroopers. Darvix closed his eyes, stretching out to the Force. It felt weak, but he could sense it this time. Perhaps he could pull this off.

From where he stood, he couldn't audibly hear what the Stormtroopers were saying. Perhaps, if he could tune himself with the Force enough, he could pick up their conversation, and if he could pull that stunt off…

"Battle alert," he could hear one of the stormtroopers say.

"Must be another drill," the second replied.

Darvix was shocked to have picked u their conversation so quickly. He was truly focused in now…could it be the Spice? He'd never felt himself so in-tune with the Force before. Shaking his head, Darvix refocused on the conversation.

"Naolin's a kriffing stickler for these drills," the first Stormtrooper said. "Back when I served on the Radeon, I'd see drills two or three times a month. Naolin wants them two or three times a week."

"Nah, he isn't a stickler," the other Stormtrooper said. "He's obsessive compulsive."

It was now or never, Darvix told himself. Closing his eyes, he focused on the first Stormtrooper, stretching out with the Force towards him, trying to delve into his mind. He was met with resistance, but as he pushed past, Darvix felt his mind slammed with a wave of thoughts running through the Stormtrooper's head. Darvix stumbled backwards, the shock throwing him for a loop. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus in, tuning out the miscellaneous thoughts. Moments later, he felt a more comfortable grasp on the Stormtroopers mind.

"Perhaps we should report in and see what's going on," Darvix said quietly.

"Perhaps we should report in and see what's going on," The first stormtrooper said in turn.

"It's probably just another drill," the second replied.

Darvix had to think quickly. He honestly didn't expect this trick to work, so how was he going to reply?

"I just don't want to repeat the incident that happened last time," Darvix said.

"I just don't want to repeat the incident that happened last time," The stormtrooper said, split seconds later.

"Alright, you spineless coward," the second Stormtrooper said, "let's go."

Darvix heaved out a heavy sigh of relief as the Stormtroopers left their post. Glancing around the hall, he noted it was finally devoid of all life. All that could watch him were the security cameras, and even then, the Imperials wouldn't be able to respond before he got his lightsaber back. Quickly, Darvix sprinted down the hallway towards the storage lockers, throwing them open in succession.

Smiling, he looked into the last locker. Hung neatly on the back of the locker wall was his service blaster, and his lightsaber. Suddenly, the odds had swayed slightly. Sure, he would probably be killed before leaving the prison bay, but at least he was armed now.

_Then again,_ Darvix mused, _I've seen how accurately stormtroopers shoot. I think I'll be safe._

***

* * *

Wedge adjusted the volume level on his helmet mounted speakers. The Wraiths were in a serious bind, and unless a miracle occurred within the next few minutes, the entire mission could go up in flames. They were the only one with the transmission codes needed to deactivate the Phantom's cloaking system. Without the Phantoms vulnerable, the Imperials would be able to systematically destroy the Republic fleet. They had to stall until the fleet arrived, otherwise the entire effort would be a lost cause.

"Any updates, Bridge?" Wedge asked through his microphone.

"Negetive," Major Lysa Chanaan replied.

"How far out is the fleet?" Wedge asked.

"Thirty of forty minutes," Lysa replied. "Our welcoming party is about twenty minutes away.

"We need a distraction," Wedge mused, considering his options. "Ideas, anyone?"

"We could try surrendering like any remotely sane person would do," Hobbie replied dourly.

"Sorry," Shalla Nelprin replied. "Union policy prohibits surrendering. It's bad for our self-esteem."

"Alright, eighty-six the chatter," Wedge chided. "Kell, how long would it take you to rig up a decent sized explosion?"

"Sir, are you asking me what I think you're asking me?" Tainar asked.

"Yes, I want you to blow something up."

"So," Kell continued, "you're actually giving me permission to blow something up?"

"Tainer-"

"Could someone check on the General? I think he's feeling ill."

"Tainer-"

"Maybe I should get Cubber down here, I might be getting some bad audio through my headset. I could swear Wedge just asked me to blow something up."

"Tainer-"

"Shh," Kell interrupted, "let me savor this moment."

***

* * *

Darvix peaked around the corner, watching as the guards returned to their post. He had to get out of the prison bay and make his way to one of the hangers that stored the Ender's snubfighter wings. If he could get a hold of a TIE, he might be able to do some damage and help the fleet. The only question was how to avoid getting caught again.

He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to clear his thoughts, not to call upon the Force, but to try and bring old memories back to the surface of his mind. At the Academy, he had earned the nickname "Datapad" (which had since been truncated simply to "Dap") for his innate ability to remember seemingly trivial knowledge. At any point, he could dig out a date in history from the back of his mind, a song-title of some sort, even the terminal velocity of a proton torpedo. He didn't have a holographic memory by any stretch of the imagination, but he could still recall some important details.

Such as the general layout of an ImpStar Deuce. Darvix couldn't name every room on board the ship, or even how many rooms there were, but he could remember the important features of the ship, such as where the prison bay was located in relation to the hanger. He knew he was on the same level as the hangers; the only trick would be navigating the hallways in order to get there. No doubt he would run into a number of Imperials, so running forward with his blaster firing wouldn't be the most prudent course of action.

He would have to rely on a bit more stealth in order to make it off the Ender. Darvix pulled his lightsaber off his belt, running his fingers over the cool metal contours. Taking a steadying breath, he turned to the door behind him, signaling it to open. As the door slid into its open position, he was greeted by an Imperial officer.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the officer asked.

Quickly, Darvix thumbed on his lightsaber and slashed across the officer's body. A roar of pain erupted from the Imperial as he fell to the ground, bleeding freely. With his lightsaber still on, he ran forward into the hallway.

_So much for stealth,_ Darvix said to himself.

***

* * *

Kell Tainer climbed back into his X-Wing, lowering the canopy to protect himself from his own creation. The Lambda Class shuttle that was due to board the cruiser would arrive any minute. With any luck his makeshift "distraction" would buy the fleet enough time to arrive and commence their attack. If the rest of the fleet didn't arrive soon, however, the Wraiths were as good as dead. A lone snub unit in the middle of an Imperial invasion fleet wasn't going to last long.

"Shuttle is making its entry approach," Major Chanaan said over the communications system. "Shockball's in your court, Tainer."

In the distance, Kell could see the unique tri-winged outline of the Lambda shuttle as it adjusted its flightpath, aligning itself so it could land within the hanger. Carefully, Kell withdrew a small remote device from his pocket. Placed next to the magcon fields insulating the hanger from the vacuum of space were six containers, each packed with the bare guts of proton torpedoes. As soon as he hit the button, they would detonate, taking out everything within a tenth of a klik.

The Wraiths were safely tucked in the back of the hanger, but everything that was near those containers would be vaporized. All unneeded personnel had long since been evacuated, leaving the Wraiths in their snubfighters.

"Last confirmation," Lysa said. "Everyone is clear, you've got the green-light."

"Acknowledged, bridge," Kell replied.

Kell gritted his teeth as the shuttle breached the magcon field. One hand gripped his flightseat as his other depressed the button on the remote. With a deafening roar, the crates exploded below the shuttle. Shrapnel pierced its armor, no doubt damaging a number of vital systems. As the smoke cleared, Kell saw that the hanger opening had been damaged, and hull breaches were forming where the explosion had occurred.

He also saw the shuttle drift out of the hanger before bursting into a ball of flame.

"I love my job," Kell mused.

"Well aware, five," Wedge replied over the comlink, "well aware."

***

* * *

Major Lysa Chanaan stood over the communications array, wincing as a Captain Reyov Naolin swore loudly through the audio-only feed.

"What the kriff just happened on your ship!?" he demanded.

"Preliminary reports are still coming in," she replied. "It looks like a massive coolant and fuel explosion. We're working on getting the hanger cleared out, but it's as good as crippled right now."

"You had best speed that up, Captain," Naolin replied. "We have unwelcome visitors, and we will need your snubfighters."

"Yes, sir."

With that, the feed cut out. Lysa switched the communications array over to the Wraith's frequency.

"Stall successful," Lysa said. "The moment one fleet ships drop out, you need to depart."

"Read you loud and clear, Bridge," Wedge replied. "We're getting bored, anyways."

"Indeed," Kell replied over the comlink. "One explosion keeps you entertained for only so long."

***

* * *

On the Bridge of the Ender, Reyov Naolin could feel the frustration welling up within him again. He had just lost one of his inspection shuttles in an accident, and the Rebels were still loose in his fleet. He knew that the Rebel fleet wouldn't be far behind.

"Prepare the Phantoms," Naolin barked. "I want them out there in ten minutes!"

"Acknowledged," replied one of his subordinate officers. "Orders issued, Phantom Wing will be standing by."

"Captain!" another crew member yelled across the bridge, "We've got a report from prison bay one-one-niner. Units are reporting that there is an escaped prisoner making his way through the halls. Course of action?"

"Send a few stormtroopers," Naolin replied. "We've got bigger issues to worry about."

Just then, Naolin looked through the forward viewport. Out of hyperspace came two Nebulon Class-B Frigates, marked with Rebel insignia. Almost immediately, the gun batteries of the Rebel ships began opening fire on the Imperial task force.

"Scramble all fighters," Naolin ordered. "Intercept those Frigates!"

The escaped prisoner would have to wait. He definitely had more pressing matters to attend to at this moment. Naolin would be damned if the Rebels planned to stop him now.


	66. Reckoning

_Author's Note: I apologize for the delay of today's post, FFN was having issues with the document manager. _

Chapter Twenty  
Reckoning

Moments after the two unmanned Nebulon-B Frigates dropped out of hyperspace, the Wraiths found themselves cruising through the vacuum of open space. The rest of the fleet was only a few minuets behind them, giving the Wraiths a small window of opportunity to eliminate the first Imperial fighter screen.

"Sensors reading two full wings of squints and one dupe screen," Captain Ru-Murleen Tavria said over the comlink, "and by the looks of it, the squints have caught solar-wind of us. Awaiting orders."

"Break off by wings," Wedge replied. "Red-flight, you've got the dupes. Wraiths, provide cover."

Wedge looked over his shoulder in time to see the three X-Wings of red-flight break off formation. It was vital that the TIE-Bombers be destroyed, so the support ships of the Fleet wouldn't be in danger. It was only logical to send his steadiest pilots to accomplish the task: Tycho Celchu, Wes Janson, and Hobbie Klivian.

"Three flight, form up," Wedge said. "We're escorting Red Flight in."

With the sudden disappearance of Darvix Zorvan, Wedge was forced to take over as Three-Flight's wing commander. It was a less-than-ideal situation, but it was unavoidable. Adjusting his flightstick, he brought his X-Wing in behind Red-Flight and looked forward. About twenty more seconds and they would be in range of the Squints, giving Wedge about fifteen seconds to come up with a spur-of-the-moment game plan.

"Red-flight," Wedge said, "break off and attack from three angles. We're going to punch through this Squint formation and draw their fire."

It was a simple diversionary tactic. Changing-up who the Imperial pilots were focusing on would give Red-Flight the split seconds they needed to break free and hit the Bombers. Wedge watched as Red-Flight broke off, with Tycho diving below the squint formation while Hobbie and Janson cut to the sides. Throwing his throttle to full and his shields to double-front, Wedge dove into the diamond-V formation the squints were in. Green laser fire shot passed him, a few bolts hitting his forward deflector shields. Quickly, he depressed his trigger twice, a dual-linked shot clipping the solar arrays of a passing squint.

"Looks like we've drawn their fire," Elassar Targon said. "We're in one piece, coming around for another pass."

Wedge killed his thrusters and slammed down on his etheric rudders, causing his X-Wing to spin on its nose until he was facing another wave of Squints. He evened out his shields at the same moment he reset his thrusters to full, selecting the nearest target and beginning his pursuit. TIE Interceptors had a definite edge in speed, but their pilots often relied on that edge too much. Just as Wedge expected, the Imperial pilot over-slipped his flightpath, coming right into Wedge's targeting brackets. A split-second after the bracket lit up green, Wedge squeezed off two bursts of fire. The red laser bolts tore into the squint's cockpit, causing it to veer off course before bursting into a ball of flame and broken durasteel.

"Red-Flight," Major Chanaan said over the comlink, "better step it up! Two Mon-Cal cruisers have dropped out. Sensors indicate Blue and Bomber Wings have arrived as well."

"Flights one and two, primary mission objective is to provide space superiority for our bombers," Wedge said. "Major, any sign of the Phantoms yet?"

"Negative," she replied. "Soon as we get some sort of reading, we'll cripple 'em."

***

* * *

Darvix threw himself behind a corner as blaster fire coursed alongside the door he had just come through. He wasn't quiet sure how, but he had made it to one of the snubfigher hangers. It had been one disaster after another to get to this point. Behind him was a trail of death and severed limbs, unfortunate Stormtroopers who had gotten in the way of his lightsaber. Perhaps if he had been more in-tune with the Force, he could have gotten to this point in a far less dramatic manner, but he was almost off the Ender, and that was all that mattered.

The sound of blaster fire caused Darvix to hit the floor hard. Across the hanger, several Stormtroopers had arrived to pin him down. Unless he did something quickly, he was going to learn what it felt like to have ones innards vaporized by a blaster rifle. Igniting his lightsaber once more, Darvix sprinted towards the nearest starfighter, an Imperial TIE Fighter. As he ran, the red bolts of the Stormtrooper's rifles danced past him. It was almost amusing to note how terribly poor their aim was, for there were only several instances where Darvix had to use his own weapon to deflect the fire from the enemy.

Darvix hid behind one of the solar arrays of the TIE Fighter for cover. He had one shot at this, and he'd have to be quick. Grabbing hold of one of the solar array's mounting brackets, he hauled himself onto the hull of the snubfighter, throwing himself into the cockpit just as another volley of fire was hurled towards him.

"Sithspit!" Darvix cursed.

As soon as he found himself in the cockpit, a wave of realization hit him. As he moved his head around to look at the confined area, he noticed that his vision was lagging behind his movements. The incredible amount of information thrown right in front of him was causing lag-time to form between his cybernetic eyes and his brain. That could get him killed in space. There was only one way to get around this.

Pulling out his service blaster, Darvix began squeezing off the trigger, shielding his face as he blew out non-essential instruments. The fewer displays in front of him, the lower the lag time would be. Moments later, he had blown out everything but his targeting computer. As he looked out the viewport, he could see a group of Stormtroopers converging on him.

Quickly, he started the TIE's flight initiation sequence. Within seconds, the repulsorlifts kicked in and he was floating above. He had a chance now to give the Fleet a small boost, and he was going to take it. Arming his weapons systems, he spun his TIE towards a row of still-parked TIE Fighters. Grinning to himself, he squeezed the triggers on the flight-yoke, pouring waves of green laser fire into the wing of Imperial snubs. With every snub in the hanger effectively decommissioned, he turned his TIE towards the hanger opening, throwing his throttle to floor and bursting out of the Ender.

***

* * *

"General," a new voice over the comlink said, "you're backup has arrived!"

"Colonel Azzameen," Wedge replied, "that's the best news I've heard in a long time."

Wedge grinned as he squeezed his trigger, tearing through the squint he had ben following. As he rode through the flames, he cast an eye to his sensor readouts, searching quickly for any strange anomalies that might indicate the Phantom's presence. If they transmitted the shut-down code too-soon, the Imperials might catch wind, and that would directly translate into a disaster.

"General I've got a strange reading over the communications board," Major Chanaan said over the comlink.

"The Phantoms?" he asked.

"Negative," she replied. "It's an eyeball broadcasting on Rogue Squadron encryption codes."

"Tag him as a friendly and update the fleet's targeting parameters," Wedge ordered. "That crazy son-of-a-bitch must have gotten out."

"Acknowledged, General," She replied. "Hold a moment…Confirmed, anomalies on our sensors, probably the Phantoms. Orders?"

He didn't want to transmit too soon, doing so wouldn't be prudent. "Start a countdown for two minutes. At zero, transmit and bring these bucketheads out of hiding."

"As ordered."

Wedge pulled back on his stick and dropped into formation with his wingmen. As he looked to his left, he could see the B-Wings of Blue Squadron begin their assault on the Ender, the flagship of the Imperial invasion fleet. The A-Wings of Polearm squadron had them covered well; giving them the clearance they needed to take down the ship.

"Rogues, Wraiths, form up," Wedge ordered. "Our invisible friends are about to come out of hiding. Wraith flight three will take the lead attack. Anyone got another pilot to spare?"

"Wraith Leader this is Rogue Five," a new voice said. "Breaking off Rogue Flight Three and joining your wing."

"Is that who I think it is?" Wes Janson's voice said over the comlink.

"Yes, Janson," the voice said. "I'm your conscious; you need to stop hitting the booze so hard. While you're at it, it's time to get you to the maturity level of a ten year old."

"Dammit, Skywalker," Wes cursed. "You were always Captain Downer!"

"See, some things never change," Luke Skywalker mused. "Awaiting your orders, Lead."

Wedge grinned as he stabilized his deflector shields forward and aft. Prior to leaving the Mon Remonda, he had left a message with Skywalker, asking him to fill in a squadron spot on a temporary basis. Wedge had long since said that Luke possessed the most raw talent and potential of any pilot he had ever met. Had he not left the military to create his Jedi Academy, Wedge was certain he would have become perhaps the greatest pilot to handle a flightstick.

Despite the fact that he had been out of the military for a decade, Wedge trusted him more than anyone Starfighter Command could have sent him. He had been burned by green pilots too many times, and had nearly been doomed by his youngest pilot already this mission.

"Fifteen seconds to transmission," Major Chanaan said. "Standby."

Wedge's hand tensed on his flightstick as he waited for the moment of truth. If this failed to work, the fleet was all but doomed to destruction. The Phantoms would be able to pick off the fighter screen and move straight to the Fleet's capitol ships.

"Mark, transmitting codes."

For a gut wrenching moment, nothing happened. For that split-second, fear washed over Wedge's body. Out of the corner of his eyes he spotted a purple flash. Quickly, he threw his flightstick to the left, just in time to spot the outline of the tri-winged Phantom Fighter.

"Visual confirmation," Major Chanaan said over the comlink. "Ten Phantoms sighted, flagging as mission critical."

"Order the fleet to block as many hyperspace routes as possible," Wedge ordered. "Three-flight, break off in pairs and attack without prejudice. These bucketheads aren't slipping past us again."

"This is Five," Skywalker responded, "I'm your wing, Lead."

Tapping his microphone as an affirmative, Wedge broke off and targeted the Phantom closest to him.

"Lead I'm going to break off and get his attention. He's all yours."

"Don't do anything crazy, Five."

"Hey, it's me!" Skywalker responded, mocking a hurt tone.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Wedge watched as Luke's X-Wing accelerated past him, moving into position to cut across the Phantom's flight path. Like a fish after a lure, the Phantom pilot adjusted and began to pursue Skywalker. Wedge switched his weapons to missile launchers and squared his targeting brackets over the Phantom. For a few moments, it blinked yellow as his targeting computer struggled to achieve a solid lock. He gritted his teeth as he struggled to keep the target in front of him. With a loud trill, his targeting computer locked on, and his brackets flashed red. Wedge squeezed the trigger and pushed down on his flightstick. As he looked up, he saw the blue line of his proton torpedo sail towards the Phantom. Seconds later, the enemy snub was nothing but broken and battered durasteel.

"That's a confirmed kill!" Skywalker said. "Scratch one Phantom."

"Lead," Pash Cracken said over the comlink, "I've spotted one heading towards Bilbringi IV's surface, but I'm tied up and can't give chase."

"I've got him," Corran Horn replied. "Breaking off to engage."

***

* * *

Darvix had spotted the fleeing Phantom moments before the rest of the Republic pilots had noticed, and was already beginning his chase. Reaching for his throttle control, he threw his TIE into full speed and brought the Phantom into his sights. The enemy fighter was heading straight for Bilbringi IV, no doubt trying to escape the Republic invasion. Whoever was piloting the craft recognized that the Imperials were on the verge of failure, and wanted no part of that defeat. Darvix held his breath as he pulled within range of the Phantom. The moment his targeting bracket flashed green, Darvix began to pour fire into the Phantom. Several shots hit right on, quickly tearing through the Phantom's rear shields. As the pilot tried to veer away from Darvix, a recalculated shot clipped its backside, tearing through one of the three ion engines that gave the ship its propulsion.

The Phantom began to show signs of power failure, descending into the atmosphere of the planet below. Undeterred, Darvix continued to give chase, firing blast after blast from his twin laser cannons. He followed as the Phantom leveled out over the planet's surface, hitting the ground hard. The Phantom's wings sheared off, leaving the cockpit to skip over the hard ground.

The impact looked as if it were bone-wrenching, almost as painful as the impact that had taken Cheriss' life.

Cheriss.

These Phantom pilots had taken her away from him. These Phantom pilots had left him with nothing but shattered dreams. Letting out a howl of anger, Darvix circled around the crash site and cast his gaze to the ground. The pilot was crawling out of the battered snub. That simply wasn't fair, nor was it right. Cheriss hadn't gotten to walk away, so why should this man?

He didn't remember setting his TIE fighter down on the ground and climbing out of his cockpit. Before he knew what was happening, he was slowly walking towards the Imperial pilot, his lightsaber clutched tightly in his hand. He stood over the pilot, staring at him through his helmet, as if trying to drill into his very being. The pilot removed his flight helmet and returned the gaze.

It was Fel. The man that had helped him escape from the Ender. This man had saved him, but had taken away someone precious to him. Darvix stared numbly at him, a war raging within his mind. The logical part of him knew that Fel wasn't at fault, but another part of him said something completely different. That other part wanted Fel dead for what he had done.

Darvix recognized idly that the logical argument within his mind was loosing ground quickly. As he continued to stare at Fel, the anguish boiled within him. This was one of the men responsible for killing Cheriss, for throwing him into the middle of this Force forsaken war. Logic couldn't overcome that knowledge. At that point, logic could not overcome the Dark Side of the Force.

With a snap and a loud hiss, Darvix ignited his lightsaber. The orange blade tore through the shadows of the night, illuminating Darvix's face, a mask of pure anger and hatred. This man would soon feel the wrath that had been burning within Darvix for far too long. He would know the pain he had brought upon Darvix. He held the blade in both hands and raised it up, letting out an almost animalistic snarl as he brought the weapon down.

Instead of the satisfying feeling he was awaiting, he felt a heavy resistance. As Darvix looked up, he saw his blade in contact with another, a counterpart ligthsaber with a silver glow. He glared at the man who had just arrived, who had just prevented him from getting the revenge he so sorely desired.

"Don't do this, Darvix," Corran said, fighting back against Darvix's strength.

Darvix wanted to yell, he wanted to curse his mentor. How dare he try and stop him? Horn didn't know the turmoil that coursed through Darvix. He had no right to tell him what to do, what was right and wrong. If that self-righteous son of a bitch was going to get in his way, then he would fall at Darvix's blade as well.

Darvix pushed against Corran's blade, causing the elder Jedi to stumble backwards momentarily. Before Darvix could slash across Corran's body to make contact with him, Corran regained his composure and blocked the swift attack. Darvix stepped back for a moment, raising his blade so it was parallel with his body. He glared at Corran for a moment, who stood calmly before him, blade held in one hand. Without warning Darvix lunged forward with a strong stabbing motion.

Corran quickly deflected the attack with his own blade, throwing Darvix off balance. In one ill-fated move, Darvix swung his blade behind his back, all while pivoting on one foot. Effortlessly, Corran slashed across Darvix's own blade, nearly tearing the hilt out of his hands. As Darvix fell backwards, he made one final cut at Corran.

It was then that Darvix's world exploded into pain and utter darkness. Before Darvix could even initiate his attack, Corran's blade was in motion. He brushed away Darvix's lightsaber, tearing the hilt out of his grasp. In the same movement, the tip of Corran's blade cut across Darvix's face, slicing through his cybernetic eyes.

Corran watched as Darvix fell to his knees, crying out in agony as his hands clutched the spot where his robotic eyes once rested. Blood flowed from between his fingers. Corran thumbed off his lightsaber, a feeling of hollowness enveloping his very being. Curled up before him was an empty shell of a man, corrupted by the enticing of the Dark Side. Life had dealt him an unfair hand of cards, but he had chosen to play them instead of folding. Now he was a man left with nothing.

As he glanced to the spot where the Imperial pilot, whom Darvix had tried to slay, had been, Corran saw nothing. Spinning around, he saw the TIE Fighter Darvix had flown in had vanished. Whoever that Imperial pilot was, he was long gone now. Shaking his head, Corran reached for his comlink.

"This is Rogue Nine," Corran said. "Emergency medivac required. Transmitting coordinates."


	67. Epilogue: The Fall of a Rogue

_Final notes from the author: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this fic. Like I've mentioned before, Rise of a Rogue is the first part in a three-part story-arc. In a couple of hours, I will upload the first two posts of the sequel fic, Star Wars: Redemption of the Exiles. _

**Epilogue - The Fall of a Rogue **

Wedge Antilles shook his head as he looked into the bacta tank, staring at the outline of his injured pilot. As much as he tried, he couldn't take his eyes of the hollow sockets where the young man's cybernetic eyes once were. Corran and Luke had told him everything that had happened, and as much as Wedge wanted to be angry with Darvix, he couldn't. He felt nothing but pitty for the young man. Darvix had been one of the most promising pilots he had ever seen, but now all that promise and potential had been wasted. He had seen other pilots drive themselves to destruction, but it was never easy to watch. Darvix's case was no exception.

In light of what the Republic had just been through, this was only a minor inconvenience. The fleet had somehow managed to succeed in destroying the Ender and her support vessels. Intelligence logs showed that every Phantom Fighter had been destroyed, and now cleanup was about to begin to ensure the Phantom could never be rebuilt. No doubt, the task would be charged to his men, but he, and the rest of his pilots, were up to the challenge. Still, as the dust settled, he had time to assess the damage, such as the wounded pilot floating before him.

"Facial reconstruction was successful," the doctor behind Wedge said. "There's still a hint of scarring to the left of his eye socket, but a bit more consmetic treatment can remedy that"

Wedge nodded solemnly, "I take it that his vision is all but a lost cause?"

"Not necessarily," the doctor replied, "The reason he was forced to use cybernetic implants was because of the lack of optic nerves available to splice in a set of organic donor eyes… It seems that over the years, he's been able to regenerate a number of those nerves on his own. Had it not been for this accident, we may never have discovered that."

_I suppose there's a silver liner in everything,_ Wedge said quietly to himself.

"We'll keep him for evaluation for another day or so before releasing him."

"Keep me posted on his condition," Wedge said, turning on his heels, walking out of the medical facility.

For a few minutes, only the doctor and Darvix were in the room. It was never an easy sight to see a subordinate as hurt as Darvix was, but for Wedge, this incident seemed even more painful. Darvix had truly lost everything: his sanity, his lover, and his career. There was no way Starfighter Command could put him behind the flightstick, even if he could recover his vision. There wasn't even a way for Wedge to justify recommending his return, at least, not in the foreseeable future. Unless Darvix were to receive help, he was a danger to his squad mates.

The silence was broken up as the door to the medical wing slid open, causing the doctor to look up.

"I'm sorry visiting hours are-" the doctor said, before realizing who he was speaking to. "Oh! Jedi Master Skywalker, forgive me."

"Don't worry about it," Luke replied warmly. "I just have a favor to ask of you."

"Of course."

"When Mr. Zorvan awakens, please have me summoned. I need to be the first to see him."

"I can have that done," the doctor replied. "One of my support staff will notify you immediately."

***

* * *

Wedge Antilles sighed to himself as he set his mug of caf back onto the table. In the room were his ranking officers, Ace Azzameen, Tycho Celchu, Hobbie Klivian, and Wes Janson. With the crisis finally behind them, they could take stock of their situation and analyze what had happened. Normally these debriefings were a relief to have, but so much had happened over the last few months. Trying to make sense out of the chaotic events that had circled around Antilles and his men would be a nightmare.

"Thus far intelligence reports are looking positive," Tycho said. "Only one Imperial pilot and one Imp escape pod are reported to have escaped our dragnet. All survivors have been taken into custody."

"At least there's some good news," Hobbie mused. "What's the bad news, General?"

"As you know," Wedge said, "mission security has been compromised for us since we began this campaign. We were ambushed at Telos and Nar Shaddaa, and were nearly killed when our cover was blown at Bilbringi. As much as we'd like to say that it was dumb luck everytime, we can't."

"What are you saying, General?" Ace asked.

"Someone has been feeding the Imperials data concerning our mission strategy," Wedge continued. "NRI has told me that it could just be a very clever sensor dragnet, but they believe that someone is working for Empire from within the New Republic."

"Do they assume it's any of us?" Wes said.

"No," Wedge replied. "Most of our mission parameters had been given to us last minute. Whoever was feeding the Empire knew long before-hand what was going to happen. That's why we kept walking into traps."

"You're not done with the bad news yet, are you?" Hobbie asked.

"I wish I was. NRI has disclosed the code-name of the operative believed to be feeding the Empire secrets, an individual named 'Delta-Contact.' In addition, the Republic has taken someone into custody… Lara Notsil."

"Sithspit," Wes cursed. "I thought she was dead."

"That's what you were supposed to think," Wedge replied. "My official report didn't say that, however. I said that it was impossible to determine if she was still alive."

"So they have Notsil," Tycho said. "What's the problem with that?"

"She's innocent," Wedge replied.

"Wedge," Tycho warned, "you know that if you're hiding something concerning a traitor, you're career is as good as vaped."

"You don't think I know that!?" Wedge shouted. "I'm well aware of the situation I'm in, but I'm even more aware of the mess Notsil's in. She's innocent, and if I don't do something to help her, I'm not letting the truth get out…but this is neither here nor there. The point is we've got a mole somewhere in the Republic who's keeping very close tabs on us. We have to be extremely careful with our actions from here on out."

"We should bring this up with the rest of the Rogues," Tycho mused.

"What about the Wraiths?" Hobbie asked.

Wedge nodded, leaning back in his seat, "In the meantime, Cracken is letting me hang on to them. We've got some roster spots to fill, in both squadrons, however. I want the three of you going through Starfighter Command master rosters to find replacement pilots. Keep in mind I need a slicer for each group."

"I know I'm going to regret asking this," Tycho said, "but what is going on with Darvix?"

Wedge looked up at the ceiling for a moment, debating on how to answer. He could try to drop the news lightly, or simply state the truth honestly. At this point, the latter option seemed like the best choice.

"Darvix's vision is in question," Wedge said. "There may be a chance to restore it, but that's a long-shot. Even if he can, I'm not letting him back into our ranks again… He's too much of a threat to his squad members."

"This isn't like you, Wedge," Tycho replied. "You would normally find some way around the paperwork to keep someone like him around. What's going on?"

"Darvix has a number of issues to contend with…Until he does, he has no place in one of my squadrons, or in the New Republic military. I'm writing a report requesting his immediate dishonorable discharge from active service."

With no further questions, the other men stood to leave the room, save Wes Janson, who looked back at Wedge from the doorframe.

"Does Myn know yet?" Wes asked.

Wedge nodded an affirmative, "Yes…and he's taking it as well as a person could, I suppose."

***

* * *

As Darvix opened his eyes, he was greeted by nothing but pitch black. He felt himself lying on his back atop a bed, a rather familiar feeling. With a groan, Darvix realized where he was: a medical facility. He was confused beyond all words. He didn't know why he was pent up in a medical room, or why he couldn't see anything. Reaching behind his left ear, he pressed down on a patch of skin, trying to depress a switch intended to reset his cybernetic eyes. With a wave of panic, he realized he couldn't find the switch.

"Calm down," a stranger's voice said. "You were in an accident, but you're in good health."

"What's going on?" Darvix asked, his voice shaky.

"You were involved in a confrontation on Bilbringi IV," the stranger replied. "You…lost a lightsaber duel to your mentor, Corran Horn."

Suddenly the memories of the event flooded back to him. Fel on the ground below him, his lightsaber raised in the air to kill him. He remembered he had been confronted by Corran and had engaged in a duel with him…and had lost. Darvix's hands slowly reached up to his eyes, his fingers brushing across the hollow sockets where his cybernetic eyes once rested. In his rage, he had been wounded in the fight. Now, he was truly blind.

"Oh sithspit," Darvix swore quietly. "What have I done…?"

"You were enticed by the Dark Side," the stranger said. "You are not the first, and most certainly not the last, but your decisions have come with dire consequences, as does every decision that comes about as a result of the Dark Side's influence."

"…who are you?" Darvix asked, tilting his head in the direction in which the voice came from.

"My name is Luke Skywalker," the stranger said, "and I have come to you with an invitation…Darvix, you have lost a lot and suffered more than most will in a lifetime, but you have still committed atrocious acts, and you will have to own up to the consequences they bring."

"Why are you telling me this?" Darvix asked.

"Because you don't have to recover alone," Luke replied. "I can help you; there is an entire Academy that can help you. I implore you, do not go through this alone, or you will simply repeat your mistakes. You are Jedi, Darvix, like your father and generations before you. Like any Jedi, you can still be redeemed."

"If I go, you'll be able to help me?" Darvix asked timidly.

"I promise you that we can help. So long as your mind stays open, and you are centered with the Force, we can help…You don't have to make this decision quickly, so take your time."

"I'll go," Darvix said without hesitation. "There's…there's nothing left for me here. I have to start over, but I don't know how…Just, give me a few minutes to think."

Moments later, Darvix was alone in the room with nothing but his thoughts to distract him. How could he have fallen like this? He had sworn an oath to himself not to become like the Empire, but he had been corrupted by the Dark Side, the very thing that brought the Empire to power. How could he have let this happen to himself? His mind began to wander over the events of the past few months. Inevitably, his mind settled on one person in particular.

He could have been happy with her, maybe she could have kept him from falling into the Dark Side, but Cheriss was gone now. He had yet to come to grips with the reality of the matter, but she was dead. The Empire…no, the Universe had taken Cheriss away from him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Instead, he let the bitterness of that even drive his emotions, leading him to actions he wouldn't have done otherwise. With a sharp pang of guilt, he realized how terribly he had insulted her memory. He had used her death as an excuse to be seduced by the Dark Side.

Even without eyes, his emotions could clearly be seen. Tears rolled down his face as he finally allowed himself to think about what had happened, and what he had done as a result.

***

* * *

Wedge looked up from Tycho, momentarily abandoning the conversation he was having with him to glance at the door. Someone had just knocked. "Enter," he said.

Darvix Zorvan, his former pilot, stepped into his office with the aid of Luke Skywalker. Slowly, he stepped towards Wedge's desk. His movements were still weak from his removal from the bacta bath, but otherwise he seemed to be in good health. Normally, that would have been enough to cause Wedge to rejoice, but the air around the young man wouldn't condone that feeling.

"How can I help you, Mr. Zorvan?" Wedge asked.

Without saying a word, Darvix placed a hand on his desk, leaving behind a small bronze emblem; a pair of bird wings. Every pilot in the Republic carried one on their uniform; it was a sign of their service and position as a pilot of the New Republic armed forces. There were only two ways a pilot would give up their wings: either forcefully, or willing.

"As of today," Darvix said meekly, "I am resigning from active duty in the New Republic armed forces and terminating my commission as a pilot of Starfighter Command."

Wedge wasn't quite sure what to say. Pilots had offered their resignation to him in the past, but he had refused every time. It wasn't a decision to be made lightly, and Wedge had often made that very clear with his pilots. As he looked at Darvix, he could tell that a great deal of thought had been placed in this choice. He knew that Darvix had no other choice, this was the only option open to him.

"I accept your resignation," Wedge said in turn, "but remember this: you're a flier… You'll be missed, Darvix."

With that, Wedge picked up the bronze wings in one hand and took Darvix's hand in the other. Carefully, he placed the emblem back into the young man's hand and folded his fingers over it.

"Those are yours," Wedge said.

Darvix ran his thumb over the cool bronze wings, visibly moved by the gesture. Despite everything that he had put Wedge and his men through, he still remained the father-figure he had never had growing up. Perhaps he hadn't lost everything; perhaps he still had retained the friendship of Wedge Antilles. That was a small comfort, but a comfort Darvix needed terribly.

Without another word, Darvix snapped a salute, perhaps the most formal Wedge had ever seen from the young pilot. Wedge returned the salute and watched as Darvix and Skywalker left his office. As he sat back down, he glanced at the datapad he had been working on, reading over the message momentarily before deleting it.

"You're not going to file that report, are you?" Tycho asked.

"No," Wedge replied. "He's accepted the responsibility for his actions…there's no need to punish him further."

***

* * *

An hour later, Wedge rested against the wall of the hanger, watching as Darvix boarded the Lambda Class shuttle headed for Yavin IV. The young man was about to receive what very few ever received, a second chance in life. Wedge knew that he would come out of this stronger, but there was still a long ways to go. He had suffered a great deal in a short amount of time.

"He's going to be okay," Luke Skywalker said from his side.

"I hope so," Wedge replied. "He's got a lot of potential."

"Unfortunately, potential is just potential," Luke said. "It takes a special person to hone that ability, but I feel he can do it."

Wedge nodded, watching as the shuttle's ramp raised into its closed position, "Take care of him. He's gone through enough for one lifetime."

"He's going to go through a lot more hardship before all is said and done," Luke said, "but this time he'll know he doesn't have to go at it alone…I'd best get going, Wedge, diplomatic affairs to attend to."

With a faint smile, Wedge embraced his old friend, "Tell Leia and Han I said hi."

Minutes later, Wedge watched as Luke and Darvix left the Mon Remonda. His eyes followed the outline of the shuttle carrying Darvix.

It dawned on him with mixed feelings as to what he had witnessed in the young man, from his early days with the Rogues as a wide-eyed green pilot to his final days as an integral member of Wedge's squadrons. Despite the terrifying outcome, he had seen something truly special, and at the same time, incredibly saddening.

In Darvix Zorvan he saw an entire story unfold: The Rise and the fall of a Rogue.

**THE END**

_**Darvix Zorvan will return in STAR WARS: REDEMPTION OF THE EXILES **_


End file.
